9-22 Cradle – Cross – Crown

Cradle – Cross – Crown

Our infinite, immortal God
Planted His seed in a maid’s womb—
Like sprouts that grew from Arron’s rod,
Her fruit would birth and one day bloom:

He spoke with words that stunned, perplexed—
Healed sick, raised dead, foretold His tomb.
As prophesied in ancient text:
He rose! Eternal Life resumed.

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