Son of the Father
I'm sitting in my chains, awaiting my death,
And I'm cursing the God, who first gave me breath.
When my guard comes in, holding a key,
And says, 'get on your feet, we're setting you free'.
'How can this be'?, I shout in his face.
'The Man they call Jesus is taking your place'.
Bewildered I stand, and my chains hit the floor,
Then, still confused, I am pushed out the door.
Out on the street I grab the first man I see,
And ask 'do you know Jesus, where can He be'?
'Yes, I know Him, the Messiah men say,
'Sent down fro Heaven, to show us the way,
'Was found guilty last night, of blasphemy.
'And now, under the cross, heads for Calvary'.
Turning away I rush down the street.
Before this Man dies we have to meet.
Outside the city I join with the crowd,
Now I see Him! Bleeding but unbowed.
By cruel whips His back is torn,
And around His head a crown of twisted thorn.
As I get close He looks my way,
The love in His eyes, no words can say.
I can't stop the water that springs from my eyes,
As, greatest of miracles, Barrabbas now cries.
He see Him laid down on the crossbeam,
The hammer comes down, I hear no scream.
I watch Him raised against the darkening sky.
He looks down with love on all who stand by.
Be they friend, family, or enemy,
Faithful disciple or reviling Pharisee.
Is we all stand and watch the sun hides it's light,
Seems creation itself can't stand this sight.
His mouth finally opens, 'It is finished1' He cries.
The earth shakes in anguish, as my God dies.
Copyright © Mark Priestley | Year Posted 2018
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