The Easter Story

By Whispy

One night on dark Gethsemane,
Christ prayed alone for you and me;
But Judas betrayed Him for silver and gold,
The soldiers were men both mean and bold.

They led Him away to the high priest,
Then the peoples anger increased;
They tried to convict Him of a crime,
But only one came to their minds.

"Blasphemy" the high priest said,
"That's the reason He should be dead."
The people arose, palm branches in hands,
And spat in His face, yet did not understand.

The morning came with Pilate there,
The chief priests and the elders did glare.
The Judas, who had betrayed Him,
Returned the pieces, 30 becouse of his sin.

The money was used to buy a field,
The title to which a potter held.
This field of blood as it's called today,
Was where strangers after death did lay.

Pilate then washed his hands,
Of the death of this Holy man.
The soldiers then took Jesus away,
To the common hall, made of clay.

A crown of thorns pierced His skull,
From His face His beard they pulled,
Blood ran in His eyes and down His cheeks,
Down His chest and to His feet.

A snake whip long and black,
Made ribbons of the skin on His back;
And in His hand they placed a reed,
And smote Him on the head with a weed.

The carpenters then brought a cross,
And to it Jesus they did toss.
In His eyes the salava and blood,
Blinded Him as if it were mud.

"Carry your cross." the soldiers screamed,
Jesus lifted the cross it seemed,
Only to fall beneath it's weight
Of the sins of men after that date.

When He finally reached the top of the hill,
The people only wanted to kill.
The soldier cried "Get on that tree."
And on He got for you and me.

They took up hammers and nails,
And drove them in, though Christ wailed;
Still they drove them into the cross,
That rough splintery tree with no gloss.

They parted His raiment and cast lots,
While at His feet they did squat.
While bystanders stood with waging heads.
Jesus stayed on the cross and bled.

Into Christs side a spear was thrown
And His heart wide open was torn.
Water and blood from His wound did flow,
And His mother cried "Oh no!"

The thunder rolled, the earth did quake,
The sky grew dark. only God could make
The earth and heavens react this way;
But no one even kneeled to pray.

"It's finished" said He and gave up the ghost,
Christ was dead but no one did boast.
The veil in the temple was rent in twain,
Only then the realization came.

Joseph took Christs body down
And from His head took the cruel crown.
In the finest linen He was wrapped,
The wind made the material flap.

In the tomb Christ's body was laid,
And as Joseph left he prayed.
Then two days later, all felt the same,
To annoint Christ's body Mary came.

She gazing into the tomb did look,
Only to find an empty nook.
Two angels which sat inside,
Said that there Christ did not abide.

He rose from the dead, from Calvary's tree,
Where He had died for you and me.
He tore the chains of death in twain,
And rose to Heaven where He will always reign.

We should remember this day
When Christ died to wash sins away;
With His blood we can be made clean,
And to Him we should always lean.


1965 Please do not take this poetry for any reason. Thanks




Now playing "The Old Rugged Cross"



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