~A POEM FOR GOOD FRIDAY

The Cross Was His Own

They borrowed a bed to lay His head
    When Christ the Lord came down;
They borrowed the ass in the mountain pass
    For Him to ride to town;
But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore
    Were His own--
    The Cross was His own.

He borrowed the bread when the crowd He fed
    On the grassy mountain side,
He borrowed the dish of broken fish
    With which He satisfied.
But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore
    Were His own--
    The Cross was His own.

He borrowed the ship in which to sit
    To teach the multitude;
He borrowed a nest in which to rest--
    He had never a home so rude;
But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore
    Were His own--
    The Cross was His own.

He borrowed a room on His way to the tomb
    The Passover Lamb to eat;
They borrowed a cave for Him a grave,
    They borrowed a winding sheet.
But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore
    Were His own--
    The Cross was His own.

~Author Unknown~

*Image source

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