Your timber beams, O crucis
From living tree were sawn
Now put to awful uses
Of crucifixion’s norm.
Natural, yet unyielding
In life and death you’ve stood
Men, their hammers wielding
Nailed a woman to your wood.
Her limbs, and yours, impaled
By vicious Roman spikes
You trembled as she wailed
At the cruelty and the spite.
And then, your burden bearing
They stood you, with a jolt
Her joints and muscles tearing
As you shuddered to a halt.
O Crucis, what are you now
With your naked, writhing load?
What should we think or do now
As we pass you on the road?
Aroused? Abashed? Afraid?
Feeling love? Or rage? Or hate?
Encouraged or dismayed
As we pause outside the gate?
But an empathetic wave
Floods o’er us as we frown
This girl we want to save!
We want to get her down!
And yet, our way is barred
We find we’re at a loss
The scowling, growling guard
Points out a vacant cross…
From living tree were sawn
Now put to awful uses
Of crucifixion’s norm.
Natural, yet unyielding
In life and death you’ve stood
Men, their hammers wielding
Nailed a woman to your wood.
Her limbs, and yours, impaled
By vicious Roman spikes
You trembled as she wailed
At the cruelty and the spite.
And then, your burden bearing
They stood you, with a jolt
Her joints and muscles tearing
As you shuddered to a halt.
O Crucis, what are you now
With your naked, writhing load?
What should we think or do now
As we pass you on the road?
Aroused? Abashed? Afraid?
Feeling love? Or rage? Or hate?
Encouraged or dismayed
As we pause outside the gate?
But an empathetic wave
Floods o’er us as we frown
This girl we want to save!
We want to get her down!
And yet, our way is barred
We find we’re at a loss
The scowling, growling guard
Points out a vacant cross…