THE CYRENIAN

I decided to go to Jerusalem,
To visit the family of my brother,
It was a long time since I had seen them,
Ages since we were last together.

When I finally arrived there,
There was no joyful worship song,
No sounds of praises filled the air,
There was definitely something wrong.

There was a line of people up the hill,
The crowd was definitely cross,
A man was certainly having his fill,
Being forced to carry his cross.

I joined in with the crowd,
And, I am ashamed to tell,
I also began to shout out loud,
But then the prophet teacher fell.

He fell right in front of me,
And I saw His blood glisten in the sun,
A Roman soldier came up to me,
And said, "You, help the so called `Son'".

At first I tried to resist him,
But then his hand reached for his sword,
So immediately I gave in,
And knelt down and helped my Lord.

The cross was heavy and very hard,
The splinters digging deep into me,
My blood pouring out like melted lard,
The sun scorching like very hot tea.

Once we got to the top of the hill,
They crucified the King of the Jews,
And suddenly everyone became very still,
All the Gentiles, and all the Jews.

That day really changed my life,
The day they took away the Christ,
Since then I've never felt any strife,
That day when I helped my Christ.