In your jail cell, groaning in your guilt,
You reflect upon your miserable life;
Your dirty hair hangs limp like dry vines
As you think about all your mistakes.
Tormented and terrorized by Death,
You suffer in fear, utterly alone;
You can almost feel the demons of doom
Grasping at you with their craggy claws.
The Roman soldiers, with black hearts,
Act like the Gollums of Golgotha;
Yet they hardly even notice you as their
Tongues scourge a bloody Nazarene.
In indescribable pain, He prays for his
Persecutors, pouring His love upon them;
As Jesus’ holy blood drips down His cross,
Some of it silently trickles into your heart.
Suddenly your spiritual eyes are opened,
And you recognize the merciful Messiah;
The Lamb’s blood warms your cold heart,
And your soul soars with new hope.