NOTHING “PRETTY”

There was nothing "pretty" about the old rugged cross,
That "cursed tree" where my dear Saviour died;
That place of suffering and agony and loss
Where the dear Son of God was crucified.

No beauty was there of jewels or of gold;
'Twas made of the roughest of wood —
No lilies adorned it in that "place of the skull"
Where with two other crosses it stood.

It was stained by the blood that was shed there for me,
The blood of the dear Lamb of God
That was shed that from sin I might ever be free,
Though my own life had been sin-scarred and flawed.

No, there is no "beauty" in that old rugged cross;
Naught but suffering and anguish and pain,
But my Saviour endured it to save me from loss
And that I might eternal life gain.


a. franklin staples

September 17-22, 1995



Copyright © 1995 by A. Franklin Staples