Flowers On The Cross

Upon that cross,
Some flowers do lie,
That cross upon which,
My Saviour died.

For He had chosen,
His life to give,
Not for Himself,
But so that we might live.

For that cross now,
With flowers adorn,
But what lies in store,
It just does warn.

I look at that cross,
That I do see,
What does that cross,
Really mean to me?

Depends on where,
You look and seek,
You might see that cross,
On a building's peak.

But just up there,
It's not much at all,
Just a symbol,
That perhaps does call.

But for its blessing,
To yourself receive,
You must show first,
That you really do believe.

It's not that cross,
That stands up there,
But what it means,
That you must share.

Be not afraid,
To embrace those words,
That from some other,
You once have heard.

For if you praise that cross,
What you really do,
Is not what God,
Has asked of you.

For upon that cross,
Was crucified,
God's own Son,
Who chose to die.

But before His death,
He promised we would live,
And if we asked,
His Father would forgive.

So don't just praise that cross,
Upon which Jesus died,
The one for who many,
Have since just cried.

Give your praise instead,
To God above,
And His only Son,
Who showed true love.

You can praise that cross,
When e're you're awake,
But a believer of you,
It will never make.

You must in your life,
Always show that you believe,
And the Kingdom of God,
Awaits, when this Earth you leave.

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"Driving Home"