I craned my neck to see this man
The one called King of the Jews
Who does this man think he is
To claim to be son of God

Along with the crowd I jeered
And laughed to see him struggle
Down his face the blood it ran
To stain his clothes so badly

Heavy cross on shoulders rested
Such a burden for him to carry
Many stumbles, nearly falling
Whips to urge him on

Not a sound from his lips escaped
Silently he dragged it onwards
Until finally down he fell
Unable to carry it onwards

Simon of Cyrene into service pressed
The cross onto his shoulders lifted
Up the hill the procession moved
To the place called Golgotha

To the forefront of the crowd I moved
I wanted to see this man Jesus
Bit of luck might get close enough
Call him names and spit on him

Came so very close to me
Could almost reach out and touch him
Just then he turned his face to me
Deeply his eyes looked into mine

So deep he looked, into my soul
My body started to tremble
It was then I knew who He was
The Son of The God Almighty

I wanted to shout for all to hear
This is wrong, He is not just a man
He is The One sent to save us
But I knew that none would listen

There on the hill they nailed Him down
The sound so terribly sickening
Not once did He scream, or even cry out
Not even when they hoisted Him

I turned away unable to watch
As tears streamed down my face
They’re killing Him, the Son of God
This is the darkest day in history

There He hung while they mocked Him
‘Come save yourself,’ they sneered at Him
‘If King of the Jews you be.’
While they cast lots for His clothes

With a voice so loud He called out
‘It is done,’ and His Spirit passed over
Darkness suddenly fell upon the land
Earth shook and rocks splintered

So many that day cowered in fear
And wondered what had befallen
The Son of God today was crucified
I had stood there as a witness