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.

He borrowed the bread when the crowd He fed
On the grassy mountainside;
He borrowed the dish of broken fish
With which he was satisfied;
But the crown that he wore
And the cross that he bore
Were 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.

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 thorns on His head were worn in my stead
For me the Savior died.
For guilt of sin the nails drove in
When Him they crucified;
Though the crown He word
And the cross He bore
Were His own
They rightly were mine. (Poet: unknown)

Easter Blessings, Lisa Beretz, LLBeretz@gmail.com