Shape of a Cross

I was born from a seed created by God's hand
Nourished by the rain and sun in an ancient land
Slowly with time's passing I grew strong and tall
Until two men came and cut me down and began to drag me off

Then I felt the hands of a carpenter
Whose love of art and skill
Would remove my imperfections till his vision was fulfilled
A Master working with the grain never thinking of the cost
Molding me until I took the shape of a cross

Then I was taken through the streets till we came upon a man
Bloody and beaten on his knees He could barely stand
An angry crowd was mocking Him calling Him the King
While a soldier with a brandished sword made Him carry me

Then I felt the hands of a carpenter
Whose love and art and skill
Would remove my imperfections till His vision was fulfilled
A Master working with the grain never thinking of the cost
Casting sin lies and hate into the shape of a cross

I wept for what they done to Him as they nailed His hands and feet to me
But I held Him up on that hill so all the world would see

The hands of a carpenter
Whose love and heart and will
Would remove their imperfections till His vision was fulfilled
A Master working with the grain never thinking of the cost
Offered up for this world in the shape
Offered up for this world in the shape of a cross