The mob closes in, seething,
with fists raised and clenched
around their signs,
and placards
choosing Barabbas,
even now, this day!
With lips curled, they scorn and roar
like lions starving.
O Lord, our Strength, do not forsake Your own.
Grant us fortitude and humility,
to walk alongside You
amid insults, mockery and spitting.
O Lord, our Strength, give us the grace
to carry our cross in Your Holy footsteps;
to mingle our tears with Your own;
to uncurl our own fists there
with You on the Tree of Life.
Crown us O Lord, our Strength,
with the Joy and Peace of knowing that
the Victory is ours!
