Good Friday

It's a gorgeous day here in Seattle. And busy. And in the midst of the beauty and the busyness, the first two lines in the third verse of the old hymn, "Rock of Ages," have been running through my head:
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Today is also Good Friday -- the day our Jesus was sacrificed for us. Reading through the four Gospel accounts of this day paints a picture of betrayal and great pain, agony, and sorrow as the Guiltless takes the place of the guilty. When Christ's body was laid on that cold slab in the tomb, it seemed that all was still. But in truth, the great work of redemption was being accomplished as He conquered principalities and the powers of darkness, taking the keys of Hell, death and the grave. I have no plea but the blood of Jesus. The work of the Cross. And, thanks be to God that that is enough. "It is finished." As a friend so succinctly put it: "Jesus paid the price for all sin, for all sinners, and for all time." What grace! I "simply cling to the cross," for in that is my redemption.
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.