I beheld in the darkest of nights,
oh, such a dreadful and curious sight,
the gruesome manner in which they,
put those to death on that day.

I tried to focus on the face,
but in my way, a hindrance in place.
Why is His true identity hidden?
Why was He so brutally riven?

The one on the right,
knew his plight,
the one on the left,
was placed in the cleft.

But just who was the One,
Who died less broken bones,
With the sign above His head,
Who was He, Who now was dead?

It’s easy to see the torture He went through,
still, it’s something He had to do.
But is there more about that flesh,
hanging there, the blood still fresh?

Was He more than just a man,
was it true, His claim of being the I Am?
How could it be, if He was Elohim Nissi,
Him, hanging there dead on the tree.

The focus still unclear,
instills in my heart, a dread, a fear.
of an eternity in hell,
His message to tell.

If you enter by any other
you’re the same, as a thief and robber.
If He is the Door, if He is the Way,
then my vision is sure to sway.

To the Truth about a man,
a salvation plan,
a God so True,
His precious blood so pure.

Washes, cleanses, and makes white,
every sin, every evil blight.
But Whos’ blood could be so pure?
Except Gods’ that’s for sure.

Through the mirror of His Word,
I see the focus come into view,
And know even tho many heard,
the real believers are so few.

Into your heart He’s promised to stay,
how many took advantage, really, so few.
Of salvation wrought on that day,
death defeated in victory; most have no clue.

To Whom did the flesh call out on that day?
When His Spirit, slipped out, and away.
My God, My God, why has Thou forsaken me?
cried the flesh, broken, bleeding, there on the tree.

The face I see, has become now dear,
it is the face of Jesus, clear.
But also, the focus verily,
The fleshly face of Almighty God . . . . clearly.