by Kirk Wareham

This is the Lord of all.

This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

This is the hill of Golgotha.
That carried the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

This is the Savior, worn and spent.
This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

This is the soldier laughing with scorn
To see the Savior, worn and spent.
This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

This is the crown of cruel thorn,
Placed by the soldier laughing with scorn
To see the Savior, worn and spent.
This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

Behold the blood upon His brow
Cut by the crown of cruel thorn,
Placed by the soldier laughing with scorn
To see the Savior, worn and spent.
This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.
 
This is the temple veil rent.
Behold the blood upon His brow,
Cut by the crown of cruel thorn,
Placed by the soldier laughing with scorn
To see the Savior, worn and spent.
This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

This is the torn and wounded thief
And this the temple veil rent.
Behold the blood upon His brow,
Cut by the crown of cruel thorn,
Placed by the soldier laughing with scorn
To see the Savior, worn and spent.
This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

Christ is the furrow, the seed, the plow,
Who loved the torn and wounded thief.
This is the temple veil rent.
Behold the blood upon His brow,
Cut by the crown of cruel thorn,
Placed by the soldier laughing with scorn
To see the Savior, worn and spent.
This is the mother whose tears of grief
Watered the hill of Golgotha.
This is the Cross with outstretched arms
That bore the Lord of all.

Kirk Wareham is a father of six, grandfather of four, and a lover of nature. His passion for reading led him, inevitably, to a love of writing. His short stories and personal essays have been published by Potato Soup Journal, Like The Wind, Woods Reader, Passager Journal, and Plough Publishing House.