1. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34)

A voice above the clamor softly pleads,
Forgiving those who nail Him to the tree,
Their blindness sown in dark and bitter deeds,
Yet mercy flows where wrath might claim its fee.
The soldiers cast their lots, the crowd derides,
Each jeer a thorn to pierce His tender frame,
But love, unyielding, in His heart abides,
And pardons all who mock His holy name.
What grace is this, that spares the guilty hand?
What strength to bless where curses might be hurled?
A king enthroned where mortals dare not stand,
He breaks the chains that bind a fallen world.
From splintered wood, a prayer ascends on high,
To save the lost, though they condemn Him die.

2. “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43)

Beside Him hangs a thief, with breath near spent,
Whose life in shadow reaped a bitter end,
Yet in his plea, a spark of hope is lent,
A whispered cry for Christ to call him friend.
The cross, a gallows meant for shame and doom,
Becomes a gate where mercy’s light breaks through,
For Jesus speaks amidst the gathering gloom,
And promises a dawn forever new.
No years of penance, no atoning rite,
Just faith that clings to Him in final breath,
And lo, the soul ascends to realms of light,
Outstripping sin and overturning death.
In one brief word, eternity is won,
A thief made heir beside the sinless Son.

3. “Woman, behold your son… Behold your mother” (John 19:26-27)

Amid the anguish of His waning hours,
He sees her stand, His mother, cloaked in woe,
Her heart a field torn by affliction’s powers,
Yet still she lingers where the blood-drops flow.
To John He turns, His friend of faithful years,
And binds them fast in love’s enduring care,
A son for her to stem the flood of tears,
A mother for the one who stood so near.
Though death encroaches, duty holds Him fast,
To weave a bond beyond the grave’s cold claim,
A family forged where earthly ties won’t last,
United still beneath His sacred name.
From cross to earth, His tenderness extends,
A legacy of love that never ends.

4. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46, Mark 15:34)

The sky grows black, the sun retreats in dread,
A cry escapes the lips of Him who bore
The weight of sin, where once He broke the bread,
Now broken, lost where none have gone before.
Eternal Son, yet severed from the light,
He drains the cup no mortal could endure,
The Father’s face withdrawn from anguished sight,
A rift to make the wandering soul secure.
What desolation echoes in that call?
What depths of grief could rend the heavens wide?
Yet in His fall, He lifts us from our fall,
The forsaken One for whom the forsaken cried.
The psalm He quotes becomes His victory’s plea,
A bridge from exile back to unity.

5. “I thirst” (John 19:28)

A parched and whispered word cuts through the air,
The lips that spoke the seas to life now dry,
A man in flesh, with mortal need to bear,
He thirsts beneath a dark and hollow sky.
They offer gall, a mockery of aid,
Yet He, who gave the springs their ceaseless flow,
Endures the sting, His purpose undismayed,
To drink the dregs that only He could know.
This thirst is more than body’s frail demand,
It longs to quench the world’s eternal flame,
To bear its drought within His wounded hand,
And carve through dust a river in His name.
From arid cross, a fountain soon will rise,
A stream of grace to flood the tear-stained eyes.

6. “It is finished” (John 19:30)

The labor ends, the task at last complete,
A single breath declares the triumph won,
No more to bleed, no further foe to meet,
The shadowed veil of sin forever spun.
The temple trembles, earth itself gives way,
As He, the Lamb, fulfills the ancient plan,
The price is paid, the debt no more to pay,
Redemption wrought by one unblemished Man.
No boast, no cry of conquest loudly rings,
Just quiet words that shake the gates of hell,
A victory born where suffering clings,
A tale of love no tongue can fully tell.
The cross, once death, now stands as life’s great sign,
“It is finished”—freedom’s chord divine.

7. “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit” (Luke 23:46)

The final sigh, a trust beyond the veil,
He yields His soul where mortal strength would quail,
No fear, no doubt, though flesh and spirit fail,
A child returns where love will never pale.
The hands that shaped the stars now hold Him near,
The Father’s arms, His refuge from the strife,
A whispered peace to silence every fear,
The bridge from death into eternal life.
This last surrender crowns His earthly road,
A king who reigns by giving all away,
The seed that dies to lighten every load,
The dusk that breaks into undying day.
From cross to glory, faith has paved the flight,
His spirit soars into the endless light.