Christ on the Cross

They stripped you bare and stole your clothes,
and jeering passed you by;

They stretched you on a wooden cross
and hung you out to die.

Now I before an altar stand,
nor find a place of death
But with a living Lord contend,
and my indwelling breath.

For you are my salvation, Lord,
my hope and vision bright;
The all-revealing living word,
and my indwelling light.

You are my indwelling Good,
a presence all divine
Of God in human form bestowed,
to be holy, to be mine.

So when I take you in my hand,
my Lord, to life the key;
To all the world just bread and wine,
to me your guarantee.

by John Rae, of Littlebourne, Canterbury, Kent.