Tis the day of your death by wicked men
And the night before saw you with stones of tears
The magnitude, the weight of the hour began to dawn
The sin of the world will crush your precious frame.
I behold the garden of Gethsemane and wept
Your friend turned foe; your friends did repose
The night did expose your enemies hate
Of which the psalmist once foretold your fate.
My sorrowful saviour, although you did plea
Yet resound your mission did keep
That I may be as strong as thee
Keep me Father to do thy will.
Trodden and trampled by the enemies fang
The screams did render the temple in part.
Oh let me be as thou art; to share the cross which nailed you down
Let me not pass thee by, but with mournful tears declare my cry.
Grant me the Spirit of love and grace
In my forsaken hour I too may say
Forgive them Father, they are blind and do not see
That this cross brings the mercy which I will receive.
Oh My King, My sorrowful Saviour
You did indeed taste a bitter end
Your blood did flow to wash the crimson stains
Your blood has washed away my sins.
Oh that all may behold, the crown bestowed upon my Risen Lord
For death he broke and tore apart.
My Easter prayer is this I ask
That I may live like you from now.