The Beautiful Torment
Why is our Lord beaten, bruised, and dying,
A whip from death and a whip from heaven
Through the twilight, the crack of the whip rings.
Tears of his children and laughter of men
Paint portraits of sorrow like a sweet song,
The “King of the Jews,” with a crown of thorn.
Why must his cries ring out so loud and so long;
Why do they harm him, for them he was born.
Why is our master hung high on a cross?
To bear such a fate is simply absurd
How is it his children became so lost?
Beaten and bloody his voice is still heard.
He came as foretold by prophets long past
To bring kindness, grace, and love that will last.
For though he was dead and gone for three days
Not even death could stand in his way
He rose once again to save all our lives,
Banished the serpent and silenced his cries
Eternally, now, we may dwell in him
He saved us from a deplorable end.


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