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Golgotha

Golgotha He looked upon the people beneath him Some taunted while others wept He looked up and in agony beseeched "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do" A crown of thorns adorned his brow And tore his gentle flesh Insults and ridicule rained up to him While understanding and forgiveness were returned He drug his cross from the town And up this infamous hill It bit into his shoulder and buckled his tired knees But it could not touch his quiet magistracy Iron spikes were hammered in His flesh was injured anew And down below, the believers saw That a great miracle was coming true The lifeless body was lowered down And gently laid away A huge boulder was set in place To help keep His body safe Easter mornings' sun found the boulder rolled away His body, too, had been lifted up And in their mind an echo shook "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do"
© 1988 B. E. Parks senti poem All Rights Reserved

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things