Let me tell you a story,
A one story that remains a glory,
Of all ages it's the one story of the cross,
The cross of sin and the one who took the loss.

As the sky darkened, the world grew still,
Upon that hill, a voice surrendered to the chill,
"Father, forgive them," was the whisper of grace,
Embracing all, in that sacred, somber space.

Noon became a little curious, as shadows fell,
And the land trembled, as if in an ancient spell,
At Calvary, love and pain intertwined,
In that moment, the depth of humanity defined.

The middle one, bearing the weight of all sin,
A symbol of hope, forlorn and akin,
Above his head, the inscription held truth,
"The king of the Jews," a declaration uncouth.

Somewhere in Golgotha, he gave me life,
Amidst the anguish, amidst the strife,
His sacrifice echoed through time and space,
Granting solace, in that hallowed place.