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		Each Time I See A Cross
	Each time I see a cross, I see my Jesus, Thorn crowned brow and nail scarred hands and feet. Oh what pain and anguish, He did suffer, For His children, there at Calvary. How I want to reach my hands out to Him, To wipe the tear stains, from His blessed face. My heart is filled with love, and compassion, On that cruel cross, my Jesus took my place. I am unworthy, and yet, He loved me, Enough to give his life upon a tree, Thank you Jesus, my precious Jesus, Help me be the child, that you would have me be.
			Written by Jeannette Smith April 09, 2002