With hands held wide by painful stings,
by Peter Rolny
The Savior proves the love he brings
Pricked of thorns the life grows dim.
With tears the Father mourns him.
There it drowns in echoes of humanity.
Drops of blood respond to man's brutality.
Under the darkness of death he sleeps,
But in this agony love still keeps
The stars shining in lofty skies,
And awakes the pulsing sunrise.
The rosebud opens to breath anew,
As teardrops sparkle like morning dew.
Fresh scent gathers remembrance,
So testifies the fragrance:
In mysterious action,
Wounded love bled compassion.