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It Is Finished — A Poem
“Father, forgive them,”
Comes the cry from illumined lips,
“They know not what they do”
As the zealots
His garments, rend and rip.
Their wagging tongues
Echo in unison
The mocking refrain:
“Blasphemer!”
“Sinner!”
“Fool!”
“If your heresy be true”
“Contradicting our established rule,”
“If God and Man in fact are One”
“Let thy will be done,”
“Remove the nails and descend”
“Oh, anointed Son!”
But their jeers He would not heed
From material doubt had He been freed,
After trial in Gethsemane
Through which carnal mind did keen and bleed.
From Golgotha’s crest is sprung
The resplendent form,
Born from above
Reigning in Reason and cloaked in Love.
The Progeny Divine —
Implanted Word within us all —
The child Emmanuel,
Alpha and Omega
First and Last,
Not confined to pages past
Buts fills the span of Ages vast.
It is finished —
I AM Risen.
