God chose the cross, not under force,
But by His own deliberate course
He shaped the world where truth must bleed,
Where love fulfills what justice needs.
Not for the taste of grief or pain,
But so that glory might remain
Unsoiled by ease, untouched by pride—
A God who gives, and stoops, and died.
He gave Himself, so we can know
How the Most High has come so low
And after His example strive:
The narrow path that leads to life.
Yet not for show was what He did;
It merely showed what long was hid,
What angels fathomed long in vain—
The secret heart of Heaven's reign.
Wealth given up, not torn away,
A will to serve, not to display.
No grasping hand, no selfish claim,
But Spirit breathed from living flame.
The Maker bows. The Judge forgives.
In dying, He alone still lives.
No contradiction, no facade—
His wounds reveal: This is our God.
