It’s Christmas time at our house and we’re putting up the tree.
I wish I could find some simple way to remember Christ’s gift to me.
Some little sign or symbol to show friends stopping by, the little babe was born one day but He really came to die.
Some symbol of His nail-pierced hands, the blood He shed for you and me.
What if I hung a simple nail on my shining Christmas tree?
A crimson bow tied round the nail as His blood flowed down so free, to save each person from their sin and redeem us for eternity.
I know it was His love for us that held Him to the tree, but when I see this simple nail I know He died for me.
—If you know the source or author of this poem please contact me so I can give proper credit.—
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(c) 2010-2013 Cheryl Cope
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