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Friday, April 3, 2015

Good Friday ...

Should I write to you of sadness or of the darkness of this day
That happened several thousand years ago when Jesus was led away
By those He came to be among and by those He gave His care
Should I write to you of sorrowing and of nails that hurt and tear?

Would you want to hear of things you know : like  scourgings and the hurt
Should I speak to you of Calvary and the Savior that lay in the dirt?
Several times He did collapse beneath that wood so big
Upon His shoulders they had laid  a beam, they treated Him like a pig.

Nobody ever took His part when He was sentenced to suffer and die
Even His closest followers left,  I cannot help but weep and  cry
The One who gave His life for all was left alone to die
Beneath the cross His mother wept; she gazed up at the sky...

If sorrow was the message here: utter excruciating pain;
What person could ever endure it all.. nobody would  remain..
But we,  the privileged, know the end and it has already passed
Memorials of that dreadful day should speak of love  that lasts

It's not about that meanness there or about people who didn't see
It isn't about that traumatic scene  or that bloodied path to Calvary
None of that suffering, within itself, could ever heal or call
It is only the act of unselfishness that teaches us:  one and all

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