Christ alone

Everything I am is because of Him. I have no identity apart from Him, no life, no freedom, no love.

He is my all; He is everything; He alone is God.

Before the earth was formed He knew me; before the earth was formed He made His choice.

It was a choice, for me. No one took His life from Him; He gave it up of His own will.

They accused Him of profaning God. And then they put God on a cross and left Him to die.

Because His Father said so.

In the garden He agonized, prayed, cried out; before His accusers and facing His tormentors He was silent. Truth stood still and uttered no word, and Pilate ordered that Truth be sent to Skull Hill and crucified.

He hung suspended, bleeding, trembling, the Maker of galaxies and constellations. He can hold the universe in the palm of His hand, and He hung on a Roman cross outside Jerusalem, while Tiberius ruled the world.

Reluctantly the earth accepted the blood of its Maker. It must be so.

Down His head dropped; the ground convulsed in pain, unable to bear defeat.

It shook again on Sunday morning, a shout that all creation could feel, glorious, victory.

And the Victor stood on His maimed feet and rattled a ring of keys.

And my captors trembled, and knew their loss, and the walls of my prison quaked, and the doors flew open.

And I walked out of my tomb and stood beside Him. A victor, too, and more than a victor, through Him who loves me.

He was dead and is alive, and so I am. Through Him. He is all.

In Christ alone I place my trust
And find my glory in the power of the Cross
In every victory, let it be said of me
My source of strength, my source of hope
Is Christ alone.