Poetry

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He was such a big attraction as he hung upon the cross,
But the people of the city didn't feel his pain or loss,
He was just a simple preacher who had given his last talk,
Then was taken to Golgotha, where he took his final walk.

But before his crucifixion, he was beaten and was cursed,
Now he hangs upon a wooden beam with pain and awful thirst,
And a soldier tries to offer him a taste of sour wine,
While another says, "He was a king", and writes it on a sign.

Now the earth begins to tremble and the sun won't give its shine,
As the Saviour takes the punishment for sin, both yours and mine,
And he cries, "Now it is finished", as his spirit he gives up,
Now we honour him in memory, with bread and with the cup.

He put all upon the altar, and his blood he did outpour,
He's the Truth, the Way, the Life; he's our salvation; he's the Door,
He's the Son of God, the Prince of Peace; Beginning and the End,
He's the Mighty God, the sacrifice, Redeemer and a friend.

He's the one who lives forever, and forever he will be,
He's the one who takes our burdens and the one to whom we flee,
He's the one who is returning as they saw him go away,
And I know that when my time is done, with him is where I'll stay.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul

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