The Son of God falls to His knees. His arms can’t bear the weight!
He looks up through His flowing blood to see His gruesome fate.
He tries to stand but falls again. His chest can’t bear the strain.
Yet still He presses on to where He will bear all hell’s pain.
But just beyond the veil of man, we mourn above the hill.
The Father aches along with us, yet cries, “This is My will!”
We know the plan, we know the hope, we know He’ll resurrect —
The horror though still breaks our hearts, for we dare not protect.
The King of kings lays down His limbs to feel the nails drive through.
His crown digs deep into His skull in royalty askew.
He’s raised up high on Calvary with two thieves at His side
Who bleed in shame along with Him, the Christ so falsely tried.
But how the thought runs through our minds! “We’re just a prayer away!”
“We’d rescue You at bid and call, but still You choose to stay.”
The Father too holds fast His ground as oceans become tears,
Until His grief turns into rage and darkness halts man’s cheers.
Three hours first, but now’s the worst. Sin’s punishment is come.
Today hell claims its finest prize, the Lord of lords undone.
With pure for vile and love for hate—His torture none can know.
The Son of Man becomes all sin and takes hell’s every blow.
But just beyond the veil of black, we count the seconds gone.
The Father pours His wrath on sin until He is withdrawn.
“My God! My God!” cuts through our ears as we all hold our breath.
“It is finished!” ends the work as Christ embraces death.
The bitter ground then claims His corpse, a stone to hold HIs head.
How could the One who blessed with life now be one with the dead?
We bide our time, and three days pass. The stone rolls from the grave
As Jesus Christ strolls from His tomb triumphant, strong, and brave!
Now how we sing and bow in awe as heaven’s gates life up
To let the King of glory in who drank the Father’s cup.
“My Son, it’s done! The war is won! You bore the weight of hell!
“Forevermore, let it be known, that You have finished well!”