He Bore It All

My Savior bore that cup of wrath
Poured out on Him alone,
With none to share the awful load
That no one else had known.

He bore God’s wrath against my sin
With all of my disgrace,
And died the death that I had earned
As justice purchased grace.

He bore the pain when, for my sake,
The Father turned away;
The separation I deserved
Was laid on Him that day.

He bore the cross, the crown of thorns,
The nails, the scorn, the shame
To please the Father and to give
An enemy His Name.

He bore it all, and now He stands
Exalted over all;
Soon every tongue will call Him Lord
As at His feet we fall.

Christina Joy Hommes