The wind which only hours before
Had been a warm, caressing breeze
Is driven now by whining gusts
Of natural agony.

The sky which radiated peace
Has been invaded now by storms
Declaring purpose in their flight
Of animosity.

For just beneath these vengeful clouds
Upon a hilltop high
The Son of God, since judged by man,
Is hung upon a cross to die.

This lone unblemished human form;
This object of our worldly scorn;
This man whom we all crucified;
Saved those who killed him as he died.

God showed compassion: we showed none.
He gave us life: we killed his son.
Our human race showed him its worst
Precisely when he gave his best.

God, grant that as I ponder
The events of Calvary
I'll focus on your gracious love
And not the mystery.