Twelfth Station

Jesus dies on the cross

Silence in the morning, day must break,
God Himself be fastened to a stake;
Who is worthy to be here, to see
Christ abandoned to a naked tree?
Sorrow's children, offspring of disgrace,
Why should you be witness to His face?
Turn away, the world has drawn its breath
To see the maker of it hanged to death —
The heavy cross, those sterile balks of wood
Hold His sacrifice, the Lord's manhood.
And yet no man or woman turns away
Who stands upon the hill of death that day

They see the cross of human evil fill,
Stems and twigs and leaves invisible,
Nothing blossom on it yet it spreads
Shade above the living and the dead,
Barren tree, appalling tree of grief
On Golgotha grow fruit within the leaf.
Pluck and eat all those who are His heirs —
Each and all are freely given shares,
Deathlessness the skin, the core, the meat,
The flesh of life eternal that was wheat.
Silence in the morning, do not turn
But see the Lord's redemption none have earned

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