The Crucified Lord

The trial was a mockery.
The sentence already planned.
It didn’t matter what he said.
He was a condemned man.

The crowd joined right in
Shouting Crucify.
This man they called Jesus
soon was going to die.

The crimes he had committed
No one could ever name.
This man that stood before them
Was as pure as they came.

But they made a crown of thorns
And placed it on his head.
They stripped him and beat him
Until he was nearly dead.

They nailed him to a cross
And waited for his death.
He cried It Is Finished!
Then took his final breath.

His friends took his body
and laid it in the tomb.
They returned home weary,
Dejected, and with a sense of doom.

Three days later the women
returned to where he lay.
They had to anoint the body
And this was to be the day.

Yet when they arrived
the body couldn’t be found.
He was the Son of God.
By death he couldn’t be bound.

He soon appeared before them
robed in white array.
Their eyes now were open.
They knew He was the Way.

2000 (Age 30)

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