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
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