A Good Friday Poem

O Man nailed here upon a cross,
Raised up for all to see,
Why do you bear the curse of God,
For what this agony?

Why do You gasp out words of grace
For those who hang you there?
How can You think to offer hope
As pain Your body tears?

Dear God! How can it come to pass
That You'd forsake Yourself?
What poor wretch suffers here below
Bereft of that last help?

Oh Christ, what has been finished now–
Your life, Your days, our hope?
If the best Lamb is led to death,
Then whither shall we go?

And why, oh sinful self, here stand,
And gaze upon this sight?
Dear Lord, the punishment is mine!
If I but had the might.

But yet a wonder, as He dies:
He trusts the Father still.
He breathes His last, and as He does,
Commits Him to that Will.

And so He dies, but yet 'tis strange
To see within a man
Such peace in meeting deathly doom
As if in full command.

The sacrifice is now complete,
The perfect One is slain.
My pardon cost the Son of God,
How can I count that gain?

Oh foolish me and sorry Death,
The Living One will rise;
He'll show new life to all mankind
When Easter morning shines!