The shadow of the bushes fell dark
Across my path, across my face.
I waited in the morning mist
To hear the sounds I did not want to hear.
The long night was past;
No news had reached my ears.
What had become of Him?
Hour after hour I waited,
Weary I stood alone among the trees and shrubs,
Then sitting on a stump, anxious and afraid,
My heart pounding.
I felt a throbbing in my head,
And chills all down my spine.
What had they done to Him?
And then in the quiet of the morning air
I heard it, the noise of soldiers on the march,
Far across the valley their cadence spoke of force,
Rome again displays her power!
From my secret spot I saw them,
A tiny scene at first, then closer still,
Louder and nearer came the shouts.
I moved to get a better look
Could it be? Could it really be?
Yes, He was with them!
There He was, staggering, stumbling, my heart bleeding!
Another man bore the heavy cross beam.
A soldier cracked a cruel whip, it struck him!
Terror flooded all across my soul!
Closer they came, the cohort of soldiers reached a clearing
At the brow of the hill.
The hill they call Golgotha!
All kinds of people followed,
Priests, guards, family, friends, and foes,
A jumble of raucous noise filled the air!
Cursing, screams, weeping, and angry shouts!
Fear filled all my being, I could hardly hold myself erect,
Hiding in the shadows, watching, watching!
Tears coursing down across my face!
The Romans are so cruel.
The man of sorrows stood there in the crowd!
Bleeding, suffering, wearing a crown of thorns upon his brow.
Two soldiers held him up.
The centurion gave the order—”Crucify!”
I could not watch, I heard the ring of hammers,
Two others, on either side, also doomed to die!
What a melee of screams, of pain, of cruel hate,
What a spectacle!
Then I heard Him speak, repeatedly,
Through the long hours I waited, listened, watched,
The soldiers on their guard, gambling for his robe.
Finally the crowd fell away.
At last His piercing cry, “It is finished!
Into Thy hands I commend my spirit!”
The Master died upon His cross!
That evening Joseph came with friends,
They tenderly took Him down and laid Him in a tomb,
And I went home to rest, to mourn, to ponder what had been.
The Sabbath came and went, an awful sadness filled my soul.
They say the temple curtain had been rent!
I saw the eery darkness when He died!
Now all was lost, now all our dreams were gone!
Then came the first day of the week
And news too wonderful to dare believe,
The word is being passed that Jesus is alive!
Can it be? Can it really be?
I journeyed to a spot close by the tomb
Again in heavy thicket did I hide, to wait, to watch.
And then I saw Him!
All straight and tall, all robed in brilliant white!
Speaking to Mary as she knelt in morning mist.
He smiled at her, reached out His hand to bless.
Indeed He is alive, victor o’er the tomb!
The Lord is risen! The Lord is risen indeed!
(March 1995)