From the sheltering wood of His cradle To the crippling wood of the cross From the stony cave of a stable To a stony tomb threatening loss Some would see God's Son rise to greatness But now, He's risen home to thee He was a miracle from heaven A miracle While He would escape Herod's danger He would not escape Satan's blow Though revered and worshipped by angels Men and devils would scorn Him below He was daylight piercing the darkness But now, His days are veiled from me He was a miracle from heaven A wondrous miracle Miracles—I've known His miracles But the miracle—His greatest miracle . . . From the swaddling cloth of His birth-night cry To the crimson cloth of His grief From His mother's blood back in Bethlehem To His own on Calvary He has drenched Himself in our suffering That our suffering might not be He brings this miracle from heaven For all who will believe We need His miracle from heaven Lord, work Your miracle for me