The Cradle, the Coffin, the Cross on the Hill Songtext
von Dirk Powell

The lord made a cradle the day you were born
To rock you to sleep when you′re tired and worn
A coffin was made from the very same tree
For the day that he calls you, eternity

The cradle, the coffin, the cross on the hill
All one and the same, as is the lord's will

The lord made the rain that falls to the earth
He waters our fields and lessens our thirst
But he made the flood with the very same hand
That washed us away and covered the land

Raindrops, the tempest, the water divine
The lord made the water into the wine


The wine of the church is holy and good
There are those who call it the blood of the lord
But the wine from the tavern can poison a soul
It can make the strong weak and make the young old

The lord made the wine as sweet as the dew
But which wine you drink is left up to you

A tree grows tall and is cut from the wild
It makes a good cradle for a weary child
It makes a coffin the child is grown
And it makes a cross, when he′s gone home

The cradle, the coffin, the cross on the hill
All one and the same, as is the lord's will

The cradle, the coffin, the cross on the hill
All one and the same, as is the lord's will