On the cross He hang in desolation ;
His body ached by tortures ; His wounds bled :
Down His face dripped blood and perspiration...
The lamb of God in torment ; His followers fled ..

Still His sweats poured ! Still His blood dripped !

The sun behind the clouds began to vanish ;
The fog and frost here to stay !
The birds circulated above gave cries of anguish; 
The cold bitter wind on Mount Golgotha did stray.

Still His sweats poured ! ; Still His blood dripped !

Father ! The lonely soul moaned in pain ;
His many wounds inflicted upon him, like rain !
The howl of soul in pain He did refrain
From uttering ; He is the silent lamb in vain !

Still His sweats poured ! ; Still His blood dripped !

Through pain , He saw , far off His mother stood
Mother and son's eyes met for a brief , brief while !
For He must drink His cup ; she understood .
Her tortured face tried to break into a tearful smile !

Still His sweats poured ! Still His blood dripped !

The sad mother tried to appear cool , but how to ;
When her heart broke ; and difficult was her breath ?
Her tears ran dry ; like any mother who 
To behold her Son die such a terrible death !

Still His sweats poured ! Still His blood dripped !

The crows , at three o'clock , came flopping round;
When the bell struck the hour ; His ghost He gave up !
And heaven then poured tears in torrents down!
His suffering complete ! He drank His bitter cup !

Still His sweats poured ! Still His blood dripped !


-By Agatha Lai