I deserved it when the crown of thorns bit deep, drawing His blood.
I deserved it when the whips tore out His flesh with its red flood
Of vital fluid poured into the dust. All this He bore
For me. God – why? For I deserved that crown of thorns he wore.
He staggered with the crossbeam. Then He reeled and He fell.
Unmoving though the soldiers’ blows rained down, as Gospels tell.
He staggered up to Golgotha. They nailed Him to the wood:
But I deserved to die – not Him. The bad should die – not good!
‘Twas I deserved His crucifixion. I deserved His pain.
He chose this death: these agonies tortured His human frame.
Why did He do it? Why ever should a Good man die for bad?
A strange exchange! God must be Love! I believe – and am glad.
Christ’s death gives me what otherwise I never could have had….