Did He fall alone, or me and you?
There came a dimness in the sky, the doves
The Temple keeps for sacrifices flew
In rapid desperate spiralings above
The tortured prophet of unceasing love
‘Up and stand', the Roman soldiers said.
They pulled Him up and told Him ‘You're a man
Who's got an urgent meeting with the dead —
We're here to get you there on time, so stand.'
Their whips are reinforced with slugs of lead
I hope I never see the like again
For as the lashes fell I felt the wounds
As now I do as if they'd never mend
Though they were His. And now I hear the sound
Of strokes descending on my Lord and friend
But more than that, the Master in me lives —
The wounds are mine, and mine through Him are His