The Divine Tragedy
I.
They crucified Him! On the bitter cross
He suffered out His lingering agony—
The Christ, in whom great Pilate found no wrong,
Was mocked and pierced—and died for you and me.
And even as the ribald jeer arose,
Proclaiming Him of Jews the thorn-crowned King,
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do,"
Breathed forth His gentle words, while blood, mingling
With sweat, bedewed His fair and noble brow—
His patient eyes were dim with suffering.
And as His last words, "It is finished," came
From pale lips, drawn in Death's last agony,
A midnight darkness fell upon the world,
That Friday when Christ died for you and me.
He suffered out His lingering agony—
The Christ, in whom great Pilate found no wrong,
Was mocked and pierced—and died for you and me.
And even as the ribald jeer arose,
Proclaiming Him of Jews the thorn-crowned King,
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do,"
Breathed forth His gentle words, while blood, mingling
With sweat, bedewed His fair and noble brow—
His patient eyes were dim with suffering.
And as His last words, "It is finished," came
From pale lips, drawn in Death's last agony,
A midnight darkness fell upon the world,
That Friday when Christ died for you and me.