I muse upon the cross of Christ,
The Savior crucified;
And love repeats in whispers low,
“’Twas in my place He died.”
Unworthy of such mighty love,
I have no other plea,
But when His justice marked my guilt,
I cried, “He died for me.”
He took my place, my soul is free;
The price has all been paid:
On Him that day upon the tree
My many sins were laid.
ML-06/27/1920