On
the cross He hang in desolation ;
His
body ached by tortures ; His wounds bled :
Down His face dripped blood and perspiration...
The
lamb of God in torment ; His followers fled ..
Still His sweats poured ! Still His blood dripped
!
The
sun behind the clouds began to vanish ;
The
fog and frost here to stay !
The
birds circulated above gave cries of anguish;
The
cold bitter wind on Mount Golgotha did stray.
Still His sweats poured ! ; Still His blood
dripped !
Father ! The lonely soul moaned
in pain ;
His
many wounds inflicted upon him, like rain !
The howl of soul in pain He did refrain
From uttering ; He is the silent lamb in vain !
Still His sweats poured ! ; Still His blood
dripped !
Through pain , He saw , far off His mother stood
Mother and son's eyes met for a brief , brief while
!
For
He must drink His cup ; she understood .
Her
tortured face tried to break into a tearful smile !
Still His sweats poured ! Still His blood
dripped !
The
sad mother tried to appear cool , but how to ;
When
her heart broke ; and diffcult was her breath ?
Her
tears ran dry ; like any mother who
To
behold her Son die such a terrible death !
Still His sweats poured ! Still His blood dripped
!
The crows
, at three o'clock , came flopping round;
When the
bell struck the hour ; His ghost He gave up !
And heaven
then poured tears in torrents down!
His
suffering complete ! He drank His bitter cup !
Still His sweats
poured ! Still His blood dripped !
More Poems By Agatha
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