We yell and scorn at Him,
Others mourn for Him,
His body stained by blood and sweat, -
We owe Him a great debt.
We had all the love of the Father
From our dear brother,
For us all His love is shown
And we reward Him with a tombstone.
This is why He was born,
to have His face worn
and His body torn.
As He weeps,
'Father, why hast thou forsaken me? '
As He hangs from His tree,
'Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do'
While He hangs...
We watch Him fall asleep,
midst death slowly creeps,
and softly He speaks,
'It is finished'
With that our sins are diminished
Fidelis Patronus's Other Poems
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