You made a cross, I’ll n’er forget; it was made in parts of two.
It reminds me of our Savior’s heart, torn apart for you.
From your view you might have seen what seemed to you a spot,
But for our purpose it stood strong, and meant to us a lot.
You know, we see imperfections, instead of the perfect one.
The cross means He was broke in two, our victory He’d won.
So really, you took some old wood and made a truth so rare,
That God took man just as he was, and crafted him down here.