He Thought Of Me

By Rebekah Perkins

What can I say of my loving God?

He came down and shed His blood,

He paid my ransom, set me free,

By dying on that cursed old tree.

He thought of me while hanging there,

While cruel men spit and plucked His hair,

He thought of me when His blood was shed,

And when they shoved the thorn crown in His head.

He thought of me as men drove those nails,

My God's love never fails,

With every stripe they laid on Him,

He thought of me, and of my sin.

He endured all this, and so much more,

So my safety He could ensure,

And now that the blessed work is done,

All that's left to do, is come.