They laughed.  They spit in His face.
They pulled His beard.  

They stripped Him of His clothes.
They beat him, beat Him

until He was unrecognizable, until
His back was bloody.

They put a crown of thorns on His
head, and mocked Him.


And then they put the weight of a
beam on shoulders that had

never sinned, made Him walk to
His death.  They laid Him down,

pinned His arms and drove nails
through the wrists and feet.

'Father, forgive them, for they know
not what they do,' He said.


They raised the cross and waited.
waited.  Waited.  They cast lots

on His garments.  The crowd
called on Him to save Himself,

Hung between two thieves, the
punishment for my sins.

At about the ninth hour, He cried
out with a loud voice:


'My God, my God, why hast Thou
forsaken me?'  And then He

died.  For you.  For me.  Especially
me.  He, Who was innocent.

He, Who is Lord of Lords and King
of kings.  Greater love hath no man

than this, than to lay down His life
for His friends.  He calls me friend.