But If I, With the Finger of God
The candles are extinguished today and the crucifix covered in black
for the One whos life was once bludgeoned with ignorance and greed
As He readied for heaven, he took each heavy Pontus whack
for sake of a world that could not accept nor believe, His Holy Creed
Some repented while others shouted profanities and ignored His tears
as He carried the Cross towards His final resting place, He slowly wept
the sky, grueling dark unbending, did not shed the rain nor smear
while His laced up sandals walked the sand without God's intercept
"But If I, With The Finger Of God," He once implied before he died
but this was not to be, for the Son of God belonged to man's transfix
He walked through throngs and herds as he closed the great divide
they watched, as clustered Halos grew around His bloodied Crucifix
But If I, With The Finger Of God could wipe away His pain
be more then just a writer recalling His death with ink and quill
The world would be changed as I know it, and He would Reign
Yes He is the One who died but also, the One they could not kill.
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