A wooden cross
On a hill
A man, a Jew
Betrayed
His pain lingers still
The cross he dragged
As people stared
He is guilty
They declared
Outstretched arms
Nails cruelly
Driven into palms
A crown of thorns
On his head
He would suffer
Until he was dead.
He died for us
In a world
Of unjust
And mistrust
He is our saviour
A flame of light
Forever and always
Burning bright
![](https://i0.wp.com/methodistic.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/istockphoto-1059510430-612x612-1.jpg?resize=612%2C412&ssl=1)
Maureen Brown 2021