By brian francis
Step by step He walked the path.
Step by step they followed.
Burdened with His love for man,
He fell upon His knees.
Yet, He rose to walk again
He stumbled through the holy streets
upon His back a tree.
Pushed onward by the jeering crowds,
who laughed and mocked His caring.
They led Him to a lonely hill
and pushed Him to the ground.
The strain of His burden
brought tears from His mother,
as with the sound of clashing steel
He screamed in agony.
Not knowing that it was foretold
they put Him through His torture.
The spikes soon turned scarlet red
drenched in sacred blood.
Then raising Him above the crowd
they nailed His feet together,
and taunting Him, they placed a sign
above his head “the King.”
Yet, as He died, He showed them love,
and begged, for them, forgiveness.
In offering this sacrifice
He then became the seed.
And with His death the sky grew dark
and thunder rocked the heavens,
The wind blew hard, the wrath of God
Held back by His mercy.
His body in a sepulcher was laid
The temple now in ruin,
Shrouded in a winding sheet
And guarded night and day.
Alone it laid in darkness,
The world then had no meaning;
Until the time three days had passed
And the tomb was found empty.
The promise of the ages past,
Has finally found fruition.
A savior from the chosen ones
has died to set men free.
The temple now restored and whole
Rebuilt as it was promised,
With room for every loving soul
to find true harmony.
Copyright © 2021 brian francis