Author Information
Sad, Saturday Morning, Outside Jerusalem
You handpicked Pilate to be a firm tower
of arrogance, and at the seat of power---
on pavement called, in Hebrew, Gabbatha,
you placed him for that single, crucial hour
of crisis, and the fool should have denied
the high priest's grim demand (from envy's pride
compelled) that Jesus should be crucified
with other criminals on Golgotha.
Roman justice (from the republic's time,
and not this Caesar's sour administration)
should have sent all the loud accusers packing
(having declared Jesus to have no fault;
and of their crooked charges, innocent),
and quickly bring, by force of law, a halt
to these proceedings. But Pilate was lacking
the courage and backbone to squelch this crime.
Now, through this murder on a cross, Salvation
enters the world. The Temple's veil is rent.
The wrath of God toward sinners has been spent.
The future meets the present in this gift,
and those once cast low find a lasting lift.
Jesus has gone to Hades to proclaim
redemption for believers on His Name.
Dim spirits, there, they now are brightening
with joy. And, from the air, you hear them sing
a song given only to the redeemed---
so many that, before yesterday, seemed
condemned to second death's endless damnation.
Starward
[jlc]
