Risen

Oh! What a weary world of woe To see a pious man, laid low A pitiless look, from Godless eyes Barabbas luck, means His demise His destiny, to be betrayed That Judas kiss, a liar made A King of Kings, in paupers clothes A Crown of Thorns, His sweet repose For He’s no friend of mine, he cried Three times condemned, three times denied Wash clean the sins, from guiltless hands A barbaric end, the mob demands Your truth lies closer to the bone Your fate is theirs and theirs, alone They claim you, as their King of Jews Is this the epitaph, you choose Her dream, her life, her wondrous joy Her son, her blood, her little boy Her pleas for mercy, peal in vain As blood falls from his face, as rain Not wanting, of His pains to blur He drinks not of the Wine and Myrrh To lay His life down, for mankind The Heavens weep its Angels blind A final thrust, centurions spear The Miracle of Christ is clear Released from Earthly bonds, His prison The third day down, the Lord is Risen…