I closed my eyes tight
And let the tears flow
As I felt the cold iron
Through my flesh go

The rough, splintered wood
Ripped the skin from my back
The last nail entered
With a spine-tingling crack

The guards gripped the wood
And lifted me high
I hung on the cross
I knew I would die

I was the second one
To be nailed to a tree
There was one yet more
To make the count 'three'

I looked down in pain
To see the third man
With a crown on His head
And sweat in His hand

There, He collapsed
Barely able to breathe
They mocked Him and adorned Him
With a thorny, round wreath

I am the murderer!
I am the thief!
That man is innocent,
Deserving no grief

They plucked out His beard
And whipped Him with glass
Beat Him 'till He bled
And fell to the grass

I looked in His eyes
He returned the stare
No regret in His gaze
Just blood in His hair

I knew I deserved it
But I still hated them so
Yet the third man forgave, saying
"They do not know"

I could now understand
And I forgot my pain
I cried out in sorrow
As they struck Him again

I watched in horror
As He lay on the wood
The guard produced nails
To pierce and draw blood

Life flowed from us freely
We could feel death's jaws
Three men being punished,
The third for no cause

I heard Him scream
As they nailed Him down
I cringed in heartache
Hearing the sound

They lifted Him up
Beside us two knaves
I looked at Him mournfully
The other ranted and raved

A sinless man hung
Between two men of trouble
I called Him 'Lord'
While the other was ignoble

I repented of my life
I believed He was God
I regretted my choices
Through sin I had trod

But I was astonished
When I heard Him say,
"You will be with me in Paradise,
By the end of the day."

© 2003 Nightsaint (J. Schmidt)