The Triumphant Tragedy

Hard to bear and heart breaking, The bitter sight of the shining One, Broken in body still bold of spirit. Spite driven nails gnaw the wrists, Brow torn open by hard twisted thorns. Our glorious King crippled on the cross, In open naked shame ordeal nerve shredding. The wounded heart wrung out by hate, Still lavishing forth love's pure force. Voices spitting scorn, savage fists shook, As the crowd rage in great crazed hate, Before His mother's grief flooded face. The eyes close only ease and cease Of bone grating pain, now passed and gone, As His breath falters and fades soft away. The crowd scatters, silence clears the hill, Disciples in sorrow, decriers still scornful. His blessed body taken down by humble hands And placed in the hollow peace of The garden tomb. Three days gone, The seal set, soldiers stand in watch. Now shook hard, hearts shrink and seize, As the bright bearer steps down burning, To roll the heavy stone, hard hewn, away. Even the angel light is eclipsed as He stands forth to bring the shining birth Of the waiting world's ever reigning hope.