Jesus on the cross

Wonder, heavens high, and earth stand still,
Behold the scene on Golgotha’s hill.
Encircled by scorn, the oppressed Divine,
Where scoffs and blasphemy intertwine.

The mob, led by darkness, mocks His claim,
Ridicule His title, His sacred name.
The Son of God, they jeer and jest,
Yet in His calm, His divinity confessed.

No miracle wrought to prove His reign,
Amidst the torment, the mocking, the pain.
A perfect offering, unblemished, complete,
His submission to God, none could defeat.

Blood of agony, from His brow it fell,
A redemptive flow, from Emmanuel.
Each drop a promise of grace to impart,
Sealing His covenant, from heart to heart.

His meekness a throne, His patience a crown,
Above all cruelty, His love shone down.
The Lamb, unbroken by hate or by rod,
In perfect submission, the will of God.