THIS IS THE TRUE GOD

The Maker of the universe

As Man for man was made a curse;

The claims of law which He had made

Unto the uttermost He paid.

His holy fingers made the bough

Which grew the thorns that crowned His brow;

The nails which pierced His hands were mined

In secret places He designed.

He made the forest whence there sprung

The tree on which His body hung;

He died upon a cross of wood,

Yet made the hill on which it stood.

The sky that darkened o’er His head

By Him above the earth was spread;

The sun that hid from Him his face

By His decree was poised in space.

The spear which spilled His precious blood

Was tempered in the fires of God;

The grave in which His form was laid

Was hewn in rocks His hands had made.

The throne on which He now appears

Was His from everlasting years;

But a new glory crowns His brow,

And every knee to Him shall bow.

(Author Unknown.)