The crowd was angry along the road,
although they knew not why.
The propaganda used to defile Him
caused a million angels to cry.
And the women, ah yes, the women:
How they followed behind him there.
Even his mother in all her wonder
followed close while others glared.
The weight of the wood sat on Him
like a boulder pressing down.
And when he fell, you could hear a thud -
flesh and bone and blood and crown.
The mockery – it waved over the crowd
and left a stench of distress.
The chants of hate and evil hearts
were all the crowd could confess.
And reaching the hill beyond the town
where skull and raven lie,
He was nailed and hailed in mocking tone -
the acts his followers did fie.
The noonday sun parched Him dry;
vinegar and sponge and reed did they give.
But nothing could soothe the dying One,
except praying for the Father to forgive.
And as He exclaimed "It is finished!"
and His soul had left the shell,
the spear revealed the water and blood
giving witness for the guard to tell.
The mother, the maid, and the son remained
well after the rains did fall;
and when the earth began to quake
the veil awoke them all.
O my Jesus, by Your Cross,
You did redeem the world.
Make in me a clean heart I pray
that doing so may remain unfurled.
