Violently they grabbed His arms as they tightly strapped each wrist.

With the hellish looks that a strong-armed soldier whip clenched in his fist

Laced with chips of bone they beat Him hard from His shoulders to His feet,

And it sliced right through His olive skin just like razors though a sheet.

Countless times the blood splattered as each inhuman lash was given

Several times His knees gave way as His flesh just hung like ribbons.

Then surprisingly He turned His head though the words He used were few,

The soldiers face turned pale when He said, This blood is for you.



Uncaringly they tossed a garment across His weakened form,

And His blood pressure fell deathly low as the crowds began to swarm.

They forced Him to carry His cross uphill as His face they punched and smacked,

As the splinters from the crisscrossed beam dug deep into His back.

Through lack of sleep and dehydration His tongue began to swell,

And weakened by His loss of blood, this Prophet, Teacher, fell.

When He did some blood splattered on a man named Simons shoe,

And as He bent to wipe it off, the Prophet said, Simon, this blood is for you.



Chorus

And this blood can save the soul, heal the sick, mend the heart,

This blood can give you access, to the very throne of God.

And it still can go the distance, from the pain to where you are,

This blood is for you, the blood of the lamb.



Then they pounded a spike through the bones in His wrist, bursting arteries and veins,

As they dropped the cross in the hole they dug, His body convulsed with pain.

Through an agony and torment that never a soul shall find,

He tilts His face toward heaven with full control of His mind.

With more love than any human heard before that time or since,

He made a statement that to this day makes the str