Victory

Poet: Greta Zwaan

The cross is the picture of final defeat, life has now come to an end;

No one on earth could have rescued the Lord, at that moment He had not one friend.

Pharisees, Scribes, disciples as well, watched as the hours rolled by;

Heard as the words flowed from His lips, forgiving those that stood nigh.

How could He speak, enduring such pain, when no one had come to His aid?

Only our God, in control of all things, could announce that sin had been paid.

Was this a farce, or were these words true? Did God really die that dark day?

Was love so great that He would give all in order to open the way?

Man had actually fallen so low that life was but grief and despair;

No earthly being could alter the course, in truth, there was no one to care.

Then God, in His mercy, held out His hand, and gave us the Giver of life.

The one, triune God, who's love was so great, who willingly faced this world's strife.

Incomprehensible, hard to believe, but nothing could shake this world more;

That God, in the flesh, would come down to earth, communion with man to restore.

'Twas not defeat when Christ shed His blood, 'twas victory o'er death's final blow,

And, if we in faith accept His great love, this victory we also may know.

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