The Last Supper
Sitting around a table, twelve men and You
One looking suspicious, knowing what he’s about to do
Wine being passed in lieu of Your blood
Bread being broken as the life of Your body
Sitting around a table, twelve men and You
Take and eat and drink of these things
I pass them to you
For this is the last time we’ll be together, but again I shall see you
Sitting around a table, twelve men and You
Walking out to the garden, they not knowing what to do
You kneel and pray and cry out to Your Father
Two men can’t stay awake, why did they come, why did they bother
Prayers and sleeping, they do not mix
Along comes a disciple who should be hit with sticks
He has turned on You, for a penny in his pocket
Sold you out for a coin, perhaps to buy a locket
Sitting around a table, twelve men and You
Life will be no more, the people scream, “kill the Jew!”
Turn their backs, they did, watch you lose the fight
Little did they know You would emit a glorious Light
Sitting around a table, twelve men and You
You may have lost the earthly battle
When You died upon that cross
But I know those people cried when they realized what they lost
Glory be to the Father on High
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