The Story of the Cross by Don Randolph - HTML preview
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THE BRIDE
Into a city, a King did ride
On a colt so pretty, to find a Bride.
He came to reign, upon His throne
To remove the stain, that men had known.
They nailed His soul, upon some wood
In a deep dark hole, where their souls stood.
The throngs did sing, as angels cried
To see their King, die for his Bride.
They slew the King, nailed Him to a tree
To find something, they could not see.
And now the King, reigns high above
So his bride can sing, of His great love.