When He Was On the Cross . . .

I’m not on an ego trip, I’m nothing on my own
I’ve made mistakes, I often slip
I’m just flesh and bones.
But I’ll prove some day just why I say
I’m of a special kind
For when He was on the cross
I was on His mind.

The look of love was on His face
Thorns were on His head
The blood was on His precious robe
Stained a crimson red
Though His eyes were on the crowd that day
He looked ahead in time
When He was on the cross
I was on His mind.

He knew me, yet He loved me
He whose glory makes the heavens shine
So unworthy of such mercy
Yet when he was on the cross, I was on his mind.