The Final Words
Father please forgive them they know not what they do
Rejecting now the greatest gift of all that comes from You.
The Son of God, the Word made flesh, they nail upon a tree.
And all the while they claim to be the closest ones to thee.
I came among the humble poor, in lowly stable born.
And now the King of Kings they fit with crown of piercing thorns.
I touched the leper, cured the sick, the lame that now can stand.
But here upon this cross are nailed my bloody, healing hands.
Beneath the cross my mother stands to share my agony.
This virgin through obedience becomes a brand new Eve.
Beloved one supporting her when all the rest had fled,
With vision blurred by blood and sweat, I looked at them and said:
Woman now behold your son, and this your mother be.
A message meant for all mankind, and all eternity.
The elders and the passers by, they mocked and spit at me.
They called on me to save myself from death upon the tree.
Two thieves were sent to die with me in agony and shame,
And when the first one challenged me the other earned his fame.
If Christ you are, then save yourself, and surely save us too.
We heard about the miracles that people say you do.
Have you no shame or fear of God? The other thief proclaimed.
This holy man has done no wrong, but we are justly blamed.
He asked that when my kingdom comes remembered he would be.
With me this day in Paradise I promised he would be.
Three hours of great agony I hung upon that tree.
Enduring taunts and ridicule from those that came to see.
My God, why have you gone from me in hour of greatest need?
Abandoning the sinless one, to see but sin indeed.
A greater sorrow never known in all of this creation,
Than from the God of righteousness, eternal separation.
Righteous Father to your hands, my spirit I commit.
That You with now my sacrifice might guilty souls acquit.
My body drained by sweat and blood, my head about to burst.
For souls to know forgiving love, in torment now, I thirst.
Three hours on the cross I hang, in suffering undiminished.
The fourth cup raised on hyssop stick, I taste and it is finished.
Love then consists of this, not in our love this time,
But in the saving work of Christ, and in His love sublime.