Friday, February 16, 2007


His own beloved hypocrate bride,
For her He suffered, for her He died.

He measured her worth, He knew the cost,
Nothing was wasted, nothing was lost.

It could't be done any other way.
His love nailed Him to the cross that day.

She is the gleam in her savior's eye.
For her He'd suffer, for her He'd die.

For her He'd rise, to her He'd go.
So that one day, His love she'd know.