I stand upon this lonely hill,
Two brothers by my side;
Golgotha, such a name bears ill,
The skull, where he has died.

Of wood, they made me, sturdy, strong,
On which to kill this man;
But even I saw it was wrong,
I watched as his blood ran.

They pinned his palms with cruel nails,
They cared not for the scarlet trails
That ran from hands they'd nailed, and bled,
But of his pain, no word he said.

They jeered at him, they called his name,
"You say you are the Lord!
What can you do, for all your fame?
Come down from off that board."

They mocked him as he lay near dead,
The scourge wounds on his back
Still bleed, the thorns upon his head
With pain his body rack.

He moaned "Eloi, my God" in pain,
As all his prayers were wept in vain,
For then his Father took his soul,
With spear, the soldier slashed a hole.

And now the whole world starts to quake,
A darkness hides the sun.
He's died: My body burns to ache,
And still, in death, he's won.
  

                             December 1974

        And so they took him to a place called Golgotha,
	Which means the Place of the Skull.
	Here, on the third hour, they crucified him.
	When the sixth hour came, there was darkness
	Over all the earth until the ninth hour;
	And at that hour, Jesus cried out,
	"Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"
	Which mean, "My God, My God,
	Why hast thou forsaken me?"
	Then he gave a loud cry, and he gave up his spirit.
	And the veil in the temple was torn from top to bottom,
	And the earth shook, and the rocks parted asunder.
                                       Matt 27:33; 45-46; 50-51