I heard the praise that triumphant day,
as the King of Kings came through the gate.
I heard the whispers of doubt and fear,
grow and fester as the feast drew near.
I heard the shouts of those who cried,
And saw, with tears He was to die.
Then, as our way,
with crosses made,
I heard and felt,
And then, Him I saw
upon the cross,
and heard, as pounded nails pierced,
His healing hands, that fed us all,
His feet, that came to us,
Then as His cross, to Heaven raised,
I saw, I felt,
His wounded gaze.
A thief I was and wrong had done.
But with my Christ,
love had won.
And then I heard,
as darkness fell,
“Come with Me,
in Paradise we’ll dwell.”
By Harry Martin