He walked along the garden path
 cloaked in silent beauty
 but His soul screamed out in agony
 while He struggled with His duty
  
 Too soon would time arrest Him
 and assault His mortal bones
 stripping Him of dignity
 to leave Him so alone
  
 He stood before the judges
 who questioned what He taught
 jeered by crowds of skeptics
 for the miracles He wrought
  
 Soldiers cruelly flogged Him
 with words and leaded lash
 till His wounds were sorely bloodied
 and His Spirit nearly dashed
  
 With razored thorns they crowned Him
 pressed cruelly to His head
 to mock His royal status
 yet not a word He said
  
 Upon His back they laid a cross
 that no mere man could bear
 weighted by a world of sin
 no more could one man care
  
 Every step toward Calvary
 was afflicted with such pain
 though each was taken willingly
 to mankind’s greatest gain
  
 Along the way was little solace
 His mother’s tears, most anguished
 a woman’s veil, the Cyrene’s hands
 His pangs could not extinguish
  
 At last He reached the journey’s end
 but relief was not to be
 His hands and feet they did impale
 to hang Him from that tree
  
 His death laid shadow ‘cross the sky
 the ground beneath was shaken
 at last they knew God’s only Son
 was the One whose life was taken
  
 They thought that death had conquered Him
 that His flesh would turn to dust
 and His memory would fade away
 while His flock would lose their trust
  
 But the Son fulfilled God’s promise
 His temple twice erected
 against all human logic
 His life was resurrected
  
 On that Blessed Sunday
 men born in any age
 could now accept salvation
 freed from sin’s outrage
  
 For all, and for eternity
 He duly paid the cost
 which guilt and sin does yet incur
 so no soul need be lost!