Terrible, Beautiful Tree

Terrible, Beautiful Tree
That I could forget the price paid for me
My soul cries, “Lord, May it never be!”
A ransom paid, not with the riches of man
But by His blood, spilt by my own hand.
When I looked upon the pierced side, hands, and feet,
The bleeding brow, the battered face, body beaten so badly.
What shame I felt, standing there, holding the hammer tight,
It could never be fixed, never be undone, never again be right.
For my sin had put Him there, I myself drove those nails through,
Wanting my own way, I destroyed all that is good, right, and true.
Yet God had a plan, He had devised a way,
For sin to die, Christ to live, Holiness to win that day.
And still, shame holds tight to me, I look only at my feet.
The risen Savior! O, What joy! But His eyes I can never meet.
He grips my chin, and slowly my eyes are raised to His,
Full of compassion, love, forgiveness; never was there such a God as this.
Christ abolished my debt, off the cross is He,
Strong and Victorious, my sin left nailed to that terrible, beautiful tree.
So what now? To live my way, shall I retrieve my sin again?
Bear it on my shoulders and struggle with it in this land?
No! What waste! What terrible stinking rot!
To think I would go back to what I once was fraught:
Fraught to wander, fraught to die
But Christ Himself saved me, breathed into me His life.
So shall I? Shall I forget this Victory?
Again and again I cry: “May it never be!”
Lord, your Covenant blood, it has washed me clean,
So when tempted, into Your mighty arms I choose to lean.
Lead me into danger, to pastures, to death.
May I preach only of You and of my forgiven debt.
Give me voice, Lord, give me love and clarity.
Grant me access, Savior, to point the lost to Thee.