He Chose the Nails

The tool of torture becomes a sign of hope,
The measure for the love of God.
The intersection of eternity and time,
Did ere such love and sorrow meet?
Or thorns compose such a crown?

The Hand that held the hammer was the Hand of God.
The Hand that took the nail was His only Son.
The doors of Heaven opened,
As He opened up His Hand.
And it rained down mercy; it rained down mercy.

He built an altar to offer up his son.
How could this be the will of God?
The intervention from Heaven was a voice,
Saying, though someday this must be done,
Abraham, it will not be your son.

The Hand that held the hammer was the Hand of God.
The Hand that took the nail was His only Son.
The doors of Heaven opened,
As He opened up His Hand.
And it rained down mercy; it rained down mercy.

He drank the cup and ripped the veil.
He chose the nails.

The Hand that held the hammer was the Hand of God.
The Hand that took the nail was His only Son.
The doors of Heaven opened,
As He opened up His Hand.
And it rained down mercy; it rained down mercy.
Wes King (c 2000)