Ecce Homo

The Cross...

    Planted in the stoney ground,
    Blood sprinkled, pooled around,
    Dust, sand, fractured rock,
    Flinty faces, mouths that mock.

The Feet...

    Hanging limply, nailed to wood,
    Sandals missing, no more are shod.
    Journey over, the burden done,
    Battle finished, victory won.

The Hands...

    Fingers bloodied, palms scarred,
    Bearing wounds, iron nails have marred.
    Grappled with Satan, the victory sure,
    Foe defeated by the pure.

The Arms...

    Stretching outwards, embracing all,
    Open wide, overcoming the Fall.
    Raised above the redeemed earth,
    Proclaiming now a second birth.

The Head...

    Crowned with thorns on wounded brow,
    Fallen forward, no life there now.
    The cry was uttered, "It is done!"
    At the  cost of God's own Son.

The Body...

    Suspended heavy from the cross,
    No beating heart, all breath is lost.
    A tear is opened in his chest,
    Flows there mixed blood and water blest.

Behold the Man...

    Our Savior finished what he'd begun.
    The race was over, the prize was won.
    From life to death, and back again,
    Eternal life to children of men.