At This Dark Hour

At this dark hour, keep watch at Calvary
As our dear Friend yields to nails and misery.
From his great pain we will not look away:
Our Lord is dying for our souls today.
The Father’s left him. Must he die alone?
Why won’t the angels tend his aching bones?
Let’s stay with Mary, making vigil here,
Then fill our jars with spices and with tears.

At this dark hour, trace the anguish in his face,
Such beauty mingling with such deep disgrace.
Even the sun in protest hides her light
As our Lord gives his body to the night.
A drink—he’s thirsty! Hear him cry aloud!
He wraps his torment ’round him like a shroud.
For us he dies; his soul and body part,
And Death and Glory grapple in the dark.

At this dark hour, see the Roman’s brutal strut.
His plunging dagger makes a hungry cut.
From our Lord’s side, warm blood and water flow
To wash a wasted world and make it whole.
He’s dead—and Earth can scarcely bear the thought;
It groans and quakes at what this day has brought.
We weep and lay him in the waiting grave,
And ponder how God died for us today.

© 2016 Laurie F. Gauger