They took Him down, His poor, dead body.
They took Him down, His poor, pale body,
drained of life, ashen and stained
with its own life's blood.
His healing hands now pierced and still.
Serving hands that broke five loaves to feed five thousand,
Holy hands, often folded in fervent prayer,
Poor, gentle hands, now pierced and still.
His poor, torn feet, now bloodied and cold.
Feet that walked weary miles to bring Good News to broken hearts,
Feet once washed in penitent's tears,
Poor, torn feet, now bloodied and cold.
His Kingly Head made for a crown,
Now crowned with thorns.
His poor Kingly Head crowned with thorns..
His gentle chest, now pierced by spear thrust, quiet, still...
His poor loving chest.
His piercing eyes, now dark and blind.
Eyes of compassion, warming the soul.
Fiery eyes, burning at sin.
Tender eyes, beckoning sinners.
His piercing eyes, now dark and blind.
His matchless voice, fountain of The Father's thoughts.
Stopped. Stilled. To speak no more. Silence now..............
Where once had flowed wisdom and comfort, Spirit and life,
His matchless voice, stilled to speak no more.
They took Him down, His poor dead body,
And prepared Him for His burial.
(Writing From 1980s Musical, The Witness)
(Click below for full-view scene from our local church drama, "Come See The Lamb".)
"...and i wait." Psalm 5:3 (GWT)
Grateful
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