Children of Sorrow, come look at my torture
Come see me hanging from this old, tired wood.
No words need be spoken, no direction to guide you
Find my power within you; it is potent and good.
See this! O feel this! I, too, have been wounded
I take Your pain with me; it turns upside down
Enabling even the youngest among you
To take victims’ tables and turn them around.
Accept invitation to climb up on my body
Free my hands and my feet; take me down from this cross.
For I Am within you, your compassion, your power
Allow me to show you that nothing’s been lost.
So far from wounded can each life be fashioned–
As my dead body now breathes once again–
Every scar trembles with potent persuasion
Saving each soul blocked by similar pain.
Children of Sorrow, I won’t force the discovery.
l will hang here through time to speak to each one
Moved by my wounds, O step forward to help me
Find yourselves welcomed; your own wounds undone.