My Savior Lives

If I have fallen from the sky,
My peace still lay above me in,
The arms of angels heaven high,
Which keep me safe, saved from sin.
I have been paid for by the hands,
Of men who hated those undeserving.
For on a tree, they, from stands,
Watched this man dying still serving.
There the precious blood poured down,
From a crown upon his head,
And tears from eyes fell to the ground,
Knees soon after, "Our Savior is dead!"
They questioned now what they believed.
This was their Lord, their Savior, their own.
How could He die? Were they deceived?
And then they rolled away the stone.