the good friday, the wondrous cross

Good Friday, the lowest day in the Christian calender, the darkest day there is in our faith, it is our greatest sorrow, and yet truly our greatest joy is born from this the darkest of days. In the act of dying for our sins he made for us a hope of eternal life. Of life beyond this dark world and it's evil powers. A hope for perfection, a hope for peace everlasting. Where sickness and frailty are no more, where sin and death has no power over us, where we may spend our lives glorify our father in heaven.

the good Friday, the wondrous cross

Savior divine to see Thee hanging on the tree,
from Thy pierced side bleeding out for me,
the pain and anguish You suffered for the wretched me,
moves my heart, moves my soul, I fall to my knees

the darkness of death falling as the deepest night,
to see Thee hanging upon the wondrous cross, my Savior forlorn,
nailed, and upon Thy head a crown of thorns,
thee Savior divine dying, I crying, at the woeful sight,

tears well in my eyes at the glorious sight,
as my sin You take, this blight,
crying "it is finished" with all Thy might,
Risen, I forgiven, no longer forsaken, this O glorious light,

This hymn, says what I feel better than I can say myself.

When I survey the wondrous cross by Isaac Watts

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.