What if the stone that was forged into nails, screeched out in pain, as it peirced the Lord.
What if the rain as it fell from the sky, tried to wash away the blood and the tears that he cried.
What if his blood that soaked into the tree, tried to flow back to give life to our King
What if the clouds that gathered above, tried to cover the shame our saviour took out of love.
What if the ground began to shake and to split, trying to swallow the ones who in the Lord’s face they spit.
What if the thunder had cried out in anger, as all of humanity crucified the savior.
What if all of creation hasn’t forgotten, the price that was paid, the life of the begotten.
And now every tree, every cloud in the sky, each stone that we step on each breeze that flows by. Exists to give glory to the king of the kings. It cries out to us, He wants you to be free!
Look what he’s done, see how he’s shown, the love he has for you, just watch and you’ll know. That each flower will live and just as quickly it dies. But each day that it bloomed “glory to him” it cried.