| Blistered feet, bloodied alone
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| Walked the streets a man unknown
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| Battered face as He adorns
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| A mocker’s robe, a crown of thorns
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| A tree designed for His demise
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| Cursed, maligned by guilty cries
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| The nails and hammer they did meet
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| Two in the hands, one in the feet
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| Risen up, put on display
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| For a guilty mob to scream and say
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| «Crucify! |
| Crucify!»
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| The people yelled to crucify
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| «He must die! |
| He must die!»
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| Without a fight He did comply
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| I do not know the pain you felt
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| Or lowly service as You knelt
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| Down before such lowly men You served (and washed their feet)
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| Who is this man they sent to die?
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| Many still could not reply
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| Betrayed and sold by His very own (with a kiss)
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| He met the needs of thousands fed
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| Healed the sick and raised the dead
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| «My God! |
| My God!» |
| The man did say
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| «Have you forsaken me this day?»
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| Bleeding, dying; |
| words were few
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| «Forgive them Lord for what they do»
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| Gasping breath they heard Him say
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| «It is finished!»
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| Laid below the ground You knew it couldn’t hold You
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| They thought that You were bound by nature’s laws
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| He is risen! |
| He is risen!
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| For the veil that was torn in two and the darkness that would ensue
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| A symbol alas that the debt was finally paid
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| When the stone was rolled away, He was no longer where He lay
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| Surely our King had risen from the dead
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| On and on and on we’re singing
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| Singing out for all to hear us
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| This is not a simple story
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| Our lives are for Your glory
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| Beyond my words and written pages
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| Your song across the ages |