A hymn and a poem for Good Friday

I tried to write a crucifixion hymn a few years ago, and was never completely happy with it. Here’s a second draft! (Sheet music here, very rough piano recording here.)

 
Crucifixion Hymn

Beside a lonely garden path I heard a muffled cry
I saw a man there crumpled, weeping, shouting at the sky
``Stranger, tell me, what’s your name?”
 He said “My friend, have you not heard?
I’m Christ the Son of God, and I have come to save the world.”
O, save this broken world!

Good friend, what will you say now that your Savior’s come to die?
His twisted body scratches bare the wooden stake that lifts him high
Even death must weep to see a starry crown all but forgotten 
Sinner, was it worth your while
To put your Lord on trial?

Behind a soldier’s back I saw a piece of tattered cloth
A souvenir he’d torn from Jesus’ robe while casting lots
``Stranger, tell me what you’ve done!” 
He cried “I don’t know what to say!
As I drove nails into your Lord he said he loved me just the same
This vagrant knew my name”

Friend, look upon your Savior, have you brought him here to die?
You still strike as he forgives you. Is this how you lift him high?
Must you twist a branch of thorns to take the place of starry crowns?
O Sinner, dare you still to pray
After what we did that day?

We stayed to watch the darkness fall as hope gave way to grief
Alone except a grinning wretch - the widow of a thief
``Stranger, tell us why you smile!” 
She said “it’s been a painful night.
But for the first time I remember, I believe in paradise.
This all could be made right”


Dear friend, will you still follow when He’s asking you to die?
Will you praise God through the splinters as your bruises lift him high?
When you’re clinging to the hope of starry crowns all but forgotten 
Sinner, see your Savior smile
He has overcome this trial!

Second, here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago that got buried somewhere on my Facebook timeline. I’m reposting it here so it exists in a more permanent way!

They gave my Lord a crown of thorns
A mockery of praise
And as they spat they called him king
In cold, contemptuous gaze

Could they not see this broken man 
They scorned was heaven sent?
“Messiah!” chants the taunting crowd
More truly than they meant

From far away in time and space
I think “Such fools were wrong.
I’ll make my Lord a crown of gold
In worship, works, and song.”

Yet barbs intrude upon the good
For I am frail and small
And though I ought to know His worth
I give Him not my all

Prayers I said but never meant
And love with motives hid
Words I didn’t know would sting
(And some perhaps I did)

In what was nice I sought my gain
My pride oblation marred.
By flesh defiled, cries ignored
This offered gift is charred

I hand my Lord this tarnished crown
Of thorns amidst the ore
Ashamed I have no more to give
The God-man I adore

He takes this wretched thing I’ve brought
And puts it on for all to see
And smiles though he bleeds afresh
‘Cuz still somehow he’s proud of me.