Shape Of A Cross

I was born from a seed created by God's hand Nourished by the rain and sun in an ancient land Slowly with time's passing I grew strong and tall Until two men came and cut me down and began to drag me off Then I felt the hands of a carpenter Whose love of art and skill Would remove my imperfections till his vision was fulfilled A Master working with the grain never thinking of the cost Molding me until I took the shape of a cross Then I was taken through the streets till we came upon a man Bloody and beaten on his knees He could barely stand An angry crowd was mocking Him calling Him the King While a soldier with a brandished sword made Him carry me Then I felt the hands of a carpenter Whose love and art and skill Would remove my imperfections till His vision was fulfilled A Master working with the grain never thinking of the cost Casting sin lies and hate into the shape of a cross I wept for what they done to Him as they nailed His hands and feet to me But I held Him up on that hill so all the world would see The hands of a carpenter Whose love and heart and will Would remove their imperfections till His vision was fulfilled A Master working with the grain never thinking of the cost Offered up for this world in the shape Offered up for this world in the shape of a cross