Passion of Christ

They tore the flesh off Your sacred body
And laughed cruelly as they did so
Your cries were of horrid pain
As You received every strong whipped blow

A crown was placed on Your hallowed head
Though not of gold, but thorns
Drops of scarlet blood trickled down Your face
While Your people quietly mourn

Brutally they pierced Your hands of compassion
Without mercy they pricked Your holy feet
This all, You endured only for our salvation
In time I wish to thank You when we meet