Rusty nails bind His arms to a slab of wood;

He's been flogged and scourged, object of scournful jest.

But these things, in compariosn, must seem good,

For his present sorrow far exceeds the rest.

Blood and water pour from His greatly mauled form.

He has done no wrong, but takes the blame for all.

He who, through His love, has made so many hearts warm,

Is paid with contempt, for which He took the fall.

He is sinless, but for all He takes the blame.

Becoming sin; murder, rape, larcenly.

A holy sacrifice to remove our shame:

"My God, my God, whay hast thou forsaken me?"

Sorrow rules earth, and e'en heaven above;

God the Father separated from the Son.

He gives up His spirit--the end of all love?

Have the forces of evil actually won?

His life drains away, and He thus becomes dead,

Cruelly forsaken by the whole human race.

A brief "It is finished" was all that He said

Before His great sacrifice, granting us grace.