Blistered feet, bloodied alone
Walked the streets a man unknown
Battered face as He adorns
A mocker's robe, a crown of thorns
A tree designed for His demise
Cursed, maligned by guilty cries
The nails and hammer they did meet
Two in the hands, one in the feet
Risen up, put on display
For a guilty mob to scream and say
"Crucify! Crucify!"
The people yelled to crucify
"He must die! He must die!"
Without a fight He did comply

I do not know the pain you felt
Or lowly service as You knelt
Down before such lowly men You served (and washed their feet)
Who is this man they sent to die?
Many still could not reply
Betrayed and sold by His very own (with a kiss)
He met the needs of thousands fed
Healed the sick and raised the dead
"My God! My God!" The man did say
"Have you forsaken me this day?"
Bleeding, dying; words were few
"Forgive them Lord for what they do"
Gasping breath they heard Him say
"It is finished!"