Was It Me?

By Wayne A. Hicks, Sr.

Sometimes I just sit quietly, and marvel at the words,
that were written down so many years ago,
The prophets and the apostles, I’m amazed that they could see
the way this troubled world would have to go,
Then I read once more of Jesus, and His perfect Sacrifice,
and I think of all the future He could see,
I can feel my tears beginning, as I’m forced to realize
that His final thoughts might well have been of me!

(chorus)
And with each thorn that pierced its way into His bleeding brow,
did He see my face appear before His eyes?
With each lash of that awful scourge that tore His flesh away,
did He listen to this sinner’s mournful cries?
With each strike of the hammer as it nailed Him to the cross,
did He watch me kneel in anguish at His feet?
And, as He gave up the Spirit, with His final earthly breath,
did He hear my newborn shout of victory?

I can hardly bear to think about the pain He must have known,
when He let them take His life on Calvary,
The thorns, the whip, the rusty nails, the spear thrust in His side,
they weren’t for Him, they all were meant for me,
I remember in the Garden, He prayed, “Take this cup away,
Father if there’s anything that You can do!”
But He gave His life my ransom, and now He whispers in my heart,
“It was worth it, for that’s how much I love you!”

(chorus)
And with each thorn that pierced its way into His bleeding brow,
did He see my face appear before His eyes?
With each lash of that awful scourge that tore His flesh away,
did He listen to this sinner’s mournful cries?
With each strike of the hammer as it nailed Him to the cross,
did He watch me kneel in anguish at His feet?
And, as He gave up the Spirit, with His final earthly breath,
did He hear my newborn shout of victory?