The wooden cross was stained crimson red
As the Man of Sorrows screeched and bled,
The offender’s heart leaped with joy to know
That scarlet sin had turned whiter than snow.
He wondered what gift to offer such a one, -
The Victor who had the age-old battle won
And taken way the hopeless criminal’s fear
And brought the doubter’s salvation near.
How could he reward He who took his care
And removed death’s ever nagging scare?
How could he ever pay the Prince of Peace
Who had granted his life an eternal lease?
The guilt-laden outlaw given to the vilest vice
Knew that even silver and gold won’t suffice
To honor his selfless Savior’s lasting scar
That availed the sinner’s hope once far.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank God for His Son, thank Jesus for His blood to bring about our salvation. Great poem Hannington.