I stand upon this lonely hill,
	Two others by my side;
Golgotha, such a name means ill,
	The skull, where he has died.
Of wood they made me, firm and strong,
	On which to kill this man;
But even I knew it was wrong,
	I watched as his blood ran.
They pinned his palms with iron nails,
	They cared not for the bloody trails
That from the hands they'd pierced had bled,
	Yet 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 half dead,
	The lashes upon his back
Do bleed, the thorns upon his head
	With pain his body rack.
He cried out, "Oh, my God" in pain,
	Yet all his cries, they were in vain,
For then his Father took his soul,	
	Now in his side he bears a hole.
And now the whole world starts to quake,
	A darkness hides the sun.
He's died: My body seems to ache,
	And yet, somehow, 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