The Crucificixion of Christ



A story most loving I'll tell

Of Jesus, the wondrous surprise (Concerning the Lord from the skies)

He suffered to save us from Hell

That sinners -- thou sinners -- might rise.

He left his exalted abode

When man by transgression was lost.

I'm telling the love of our God

He shed forth His blood as the cause (cost).



Oh, did my dear Jesus thus bleed?

And pity his chosen lost race.

From whence did such mercies proceed?

Such boundless compassion and grace?

His body bore anguish and pain

His spirit 'most sunk with the load.

A short time before he was slain

His sweat was as great drops of blood.

Oh, was it for crimes I have done

The saviour was hailed with a kiss

By Judas, the traitor, alone?

Was ever compassion like this?

The ruffians all joined in the band

Confined Him and led Him away.

THe cords wrapped around his sweet hands,

Come, mourners, look at Him I pray.



To Pilate's stone pillars, when led

His body was lashed with whips.

It never was any might said

A railing word dropped from His lips.

They made Him a crown out of thorns

They took Him and did Him abuse

They clothed Him in crimson and scorn

And hailed him the King of the Jews.



They loaded the lamb of the Cross

And drove Him up Calvary's hill.

Come mourners, a moment, and pause

As nature looks solemn and still.

They rushed the nails through His hands

Transfixed and tortured His feet

Oh brethren, see passive He stands

To look at the sight of His grave.



He cried, "My Father, my God

Forsaken, Thou'st left me alone!"

The cross was all covered with blood,

The temple was bursted in twain.

He groaned His last, and He died

The sun, it refused to shine

They rushed the spear in His side,

The lovely Redeemer is mine.



He fought the hard battle and won

This vict'ry, and gave it most free.

Oh brethren, look forward snd run

In hopes that His Kingdom you see.

And when He in the cloud shall appear

With angels all at His command,

And thousands of Christians be there

All singing, with harps in a band.



How pleasant and happy those years

Enjoying such beams of delight;

His spirit to Christians he'll show

Oh, Jesus, I long for the sight.

I long to mount up in the skies

In Paradise make my abode.

And sing of salvation on high,

And rest with our glorious God.



From Folk Songs Out of Wisconson, Peters. Collected from Charlie Spencer.

Note: I collected an almost identical version of this in Salt Lick,

Kentucky, in 1953 from XXXX; this is the only time I've ever seen it

published. Words in parentheses are the variants sung by XXXX.



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