Two Crosses, One Choice.

Upon a hill where three trees stood,  

Two thieves hung near what goodness could.  

One mocked the Light, with hardened breath,  

The other bowed, and found life in death.  

Both near the Savior, arms outspread,  

One turned his back, one bowed his head.  

One clung to pride, to scorn, to loss,  

The other clung to mercy's cross.  

Both heard the words, both saw His face,  

One chose despair, one chose grace.  

Distance, you see, is not of miles,  

But of a heart that dares or smiles.  

We're all as near, we're all as far,  

From heaven’s gate or falling star.  

The difference is not time or place—  

It’s what we do with offered grace.