The tumult, the tears, Golgotha spread wide,

The horror, the rocks, the bleak mountainside!

The only way that Christ chose decisively

That frightful cross, it was for you and me!



His body so racked with suffering and pain!

And how could He tolerate the sorrow, the shame?

Priests so determined, their self-righteous cries,

“He claimed to be God, yes!  For this He dies!”



“If You are who You claim then come down from that tree!”

But He gazed down on them in sorrow, piteously!

The Pharisees (religious) many did not come.

Did any receive?  Yes, truly there were some!



“Save Yourself and us!”  Cried the thieves on either side.

“Father forgive them!  So long they have been denied!”

Soldier gazing upward no longer was he bored,

“Surely,” he exclaimed, “This is the Son of God!”



Mary and John close by comforting each other,

Their relationship much more like, son and mother.

Yes, Mary well knew that her son must die! (*)

She leaned into John, there were tears in her eyes.



The tears were for her sons suffering that day!

Together they ignored the earth splitting quake!

The priests, in terror, fled screaming from that place.

“It is finished!”  The Lord cried, while on His face–



Through the grim blackness a lone light shone

On my God!  On a cross tree, dying alone. (**)

No!  No!  Not the end!  They buried Him!  He arose!

Over five hundred saw Him alive!  His church grows!



(*)   But the cruel cross!

(**) My tears near hid my type.



S H Cox 10.24.05

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