I watched the Lord upon the cross,
Until he ceased to breathe,
He stopped - like strangled albatross,
With fledglings to bereave.

I peeped - at first, in horror -
The people's prophet nailed,
To the Emperor's wood masonry,
A craft for which his father - hailed -

Then I peered at greater length,
Though wanting to relent,
I cannot deny the sight of pain,
Beget so I can repent.

A sight sublime - yet awful,
Suffice to inspire hymns,
The people's prophet - crucified,
To indulge a tyrant's whims.

Yet towards his prosecutors, kind
So loving and forgiving,
Against that Truth - no armory
In it, Lord ever living.