I have an old bracelet,
With one single charm.
A cross, silver and shining.
When I look down, what do I see?
I see a cross,
With someone dying for me.
Quite different this cross, from the one on my wrist,
It was jagged and sharp, not perfect and smooth.
The man on this cross,
With tears in his eyes, looked me straight in my face, then cried,
‘Father, forgive. They know not what they do’.
I wondered at these words, then cried,
‘What love so boundless, abundant, but not free’.
The price of this love was a life,
So precious and kind.
To think, he’d been scorned by those he came to save.
To think, he was alone in this world.
Yet,
He has a love for me, a sinner,
So undeserving and cruel.
A creator loving his created,
A saviour loving those he came to save.
So, when I look down at my wrist, what do I see?
I see a man dying for me,
With a love that set me free, from a lost eternity.
I see a cross more beautiful than silver
Because, on this cross, you see,
Christ Jesus died to save a wretch like me.
A. Buckeridge
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