The Artist
"It is finished" You said
After beatings and lynchings
After living a perfect life
Through a world full of sinning
As Peter thrice denied You
Pilate said "I have written what I have written"
"King of the Jews" over Your head
Rejected by Your own children
Lots cast for your clothes
All prophecies fulfilled
Yet the people around you
Shouted "Crucify Him!"
"I thirst" You told them
Before they pierced Your side
But all they would give you
Is a sponge full of vinegar and pride
The full wrath of God
Was released upon You
You knew that this was
What You had come to do
Not a bone would be broken
As they laid you inside
The disciples were confused
Could their King of Kings really die?
The devil thought he had won
But little did he know
That You would soon rise
Out of the tomb You would go
"Touch my side" ; "Touch my hands"
You told Thomas who doubted
The scars remained for all to see
But death's sting had been shattered
Soon after You went
To sit upon Your throne
The Comforter was released
It was better for You to go
I await the day
Your chosen are all home
Shouting victorious praise
Every soul accounted for
We will be in awe of Your beauty
In Your glory will we bask
All because of this gruesome
And sorrowful task
You've painted it all
With such a gracious brush
The bright, warm & dark
The Artist dove in to save the lush
