Member-only story
What Was His Crime?
A Good Friday Poem
What was His crime
That left him sorrowful and sweaty
Shrouded in darkness and in grime
Alone, afraid and in agony
What was His crime
That caused him to pray and weep
Face bathed in blood, tears and slime
While Peter, James and John went off to sleep
What was His crime
That saw him taken prisoner
Accused and buffeted by enemies
A lamb led to the slaughter
What was His crime
As a carpenter and preacher
That caused Judas to drop a dime
On Him — for thirty pieces of silver
What was His crime
When witnesses treated His trial
Derisively as they would a pantomime
And hurled on His face abuses and bile
What was His crime
That He was brutally scourged
Before that dolorous climb
Upon His shoulders — a cross was perched
What was His crime
Did He lie, kill or pillage
During His entire lifetime
That incited so much rage
What was His crime
By coming down from above
To die on the Cross — out of love sublime
Yes, that was His crime — a crime of infinite love!
