It Was Done

He breathed His last in pain, and it was done:
His blood poured down in loving sacrifice.
Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!

His senses He would not consent to stun
With wine that had been laced with gall and spice:
He breathed His last in pain, and it was done.

There was no pain He did not know, not one:
The lash, the mocking word, denial thrice.
Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!

The darkness now in sorrow veiled the sun,
The earth shook as it offered all its vice.
He breathed His last in pain, and it was done.

Thus said the gory, awed centurion
Who placed Him on Rome's cruelest death device:
"Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!"

O death! Your vicious sting has been undone
By Jesus, King of Kings, who paid the price!
He breathed his last in pain, and it was done:
Truly this man was the Christ, God's son!