It Is Finished Poem by John Bowring

''Tis finished,' the Redeemer said,
And then He bowed His sacred head,
And then He died. The sun concealed
His face in darkness-not to see
That hour of crime and misery-
And earth with shame and terror reeled.


The mountains shook-the firmament
Was in that awful moment rent-
The graves gave up th'imprisoned dead:
Yet 'midst those terrors was begun
Salvation's work, and victory won:
''Tis finished,' the Redeemer said.


''Tis finished.' In that trying hour,
Death, sin, and sorrow's mortal power
Was broken and subdued. Our way
Is clear to heav'n, and bright: the gloom,
The dread, the darkness of the tomb,
Like passing shadows, haste away.