Poetry

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Don't suffer so. No not for me
Your life's work hung upon the tree.
Arise! Come down. It is not I
Whose acts have caused the Lord to die.
*
It's not this bad, my need for You
To make up for the things I do.
Others more inclined to err
Have nailed You to the cross up there.
*
Please, please descend, or go--
Heaven awaits you, is it not so?
Release me from Your naked shame,
Oh let me know I'm not to blame.
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My breath, your gift of life to me
Could You not command eternity,
Without the horror and the guilt
Of knowing that Your blood's been spilt?
*
Lamb of God, spotless One,
Perfect, holy, beloved Son,
Leave now and take your promised throne.
Don't let me keep you from Your home.
*
Compassion sees with dimming eye
The heart of me, He knows just why
I cry out to end His pain--
Because my hands are crimson stained.
*
The ersatz trial, the lies they told,
With arrogant pride, Your garments sold.
The thorns, the whip, the nail and hammer
The mocking mob's demanding clamor.
*
Your life exchanged for a murderous thief
Barabbas freed to the crowds relief.
Heinous, hateful their maddened cry,
"The Lord of glory, Crucify!"
*
Now here I stand a prideful man
I've weighed my life as best I can,
The scales are balanced black and white
My daylight deeds and darkest night
*
Come down or go I've made my choice,
I've seen Your face and heard Your voice.
I'm not the one who's hanging high
It's not me crying "Crucify!"

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