Exalt the Cross by Jeff Callaway

 

Exalt the Cross

by Jeff Callaway

Texas Outlaw Poet

September fourteenth, mark it down,

Cross goes up, the world bows down.

No date on a page, no hollow show,

This is the day we let Hell know.

Wood that saved the broken earth,

Gallows of death, now throne of birth.

Rome built it for fear, for pain, for shame,

Christ bled on it once, then flipped the game.

Helena came with pilgrim’s will,

Spade in her hand, the world stood still.

Three crosses found, one brought life back,

True Cross rose, the night turned black.

Split that wood through Christendom wide,

Rome, Constantinople, Jerusalem cried.

Not just timber, not just tree—

God’s own war flag for all to see.

Three-three-five, church bells ring,

Sepulchre crowned, let the faithful sing.

Day after day, Cross was raised,

Saints and sinners alike were dazed.

Six-two-nine, Heraclius came,

Barefoot he walked, no pomp, no fame.

Carried the Cross where Love had died,

Humbled himself, yet glorified.

By seventh century, feast spread far,

Banner for living, torch for the scarred.

World gone mad, swords in hand,

Cross the flag of the pilgrim band.

Not just wood, throne of the King,

Not just death, grave’s undoing.

Isaiah saw it, Paul made it plain—

Without the Cross, no breaking chain.

“When I am lifted,” Savior said,

“All men will come,” serpent fled.

Poison to cure, death turned life,

Mercy cuts sharper than any knife.

Philippians tells the road to climb:

Obedience down, glory in time.

Take up your cross, don’t just wear it—

Live like the weight, bleed if you bear it.

Numbers, Philippians, John we read,

Church takes aim at serpent’s seed.

O God who willed that Cross would save,

Teach us to walk where Son once gave.

Bless the wood, crown it with flowers,

March it through town, solemn hours.

Raise it high, one truth we shout:

Cross means victory, fear cast out.

Feast is a dare, not sweet routine,

Fight for the soul, call to be clean.

Devil is liar, grave undone,

Cross is the sign that the war is won.

Pick it up, don’t let it fall,

Bleed if you must, answer the call.

Wood of the Cross, wood of life,

God’s banner of peace in world of strife.

~ by Jeff Callaway

Texas Outlaw Poet

© 2025 Texas Outlaw Press