A Good Friday Poem
On a good old Friday, many centuries ago,
A noble wise King, bruised the night before
Hunger and thirst He set aside amidst His mission
Disregarded the pain and every sickening humiliation
For greater far would be the day's unfolding evil
Jerusalem, you will never be same, past this upheaval.
Today, He will be abandoned by people and His God
To redeem His bride beloved and Him be her Lord.
Oh! The sting of death and the devil's distinction
All will be stubbed out today, in one swift action
The Pilate asked Him, whether He was a king
How can he say not, when He created everything.
Sin thought that it found victory by the noon
When the King was condemned to die by His own.
There were multiple parties all united in this mission,
To crucify Him who threatened to end their religion.
Wagged their heads, Mocked Him to save His soul,
While He stayed on the tree to save the better whole.
His plan was on that day to destroy the temple old,
In three days time, resurrect with God's new abode
By noon, He realised God's total abandonment
Then, He knew His mission attained fulfilment.
Before closing his eyes, He might have thought of us,
The sheep in millions saved throughout ages.