Then wilt they repeat those selfsame acts
Which brought the cruel thorns upon His head
And beatings harsh and violent on His back
The nails that pierced His feet and hands
Are commonplace, an old tale too well known
While prideful men with insolent demands
Care not He died in agony alone
The cross engraved in beauty low and high
Is lovely only due to saving grace
That sent our Lord the meanest death to die
The Son of God to mocking and disgrace
Let us think with reverence of that cost
And live not as we did when we were lost
~Written in 2014