Below, they mock – “King of the Jews, your power is null -
Save yourself on the place of the Skull.”
His body is broken, His blood poured out,
These wounds that drive away all doubt.

With transgressors He is numbered,
With our sins is now encumbered.
Gone is every hint of sunburst.
And now - He thirsts.

Save me, O God!
For the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire,
where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
and the flood sweeps over me.
I am weary with my crying out;
my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim
with waiting for my God.

He is forsaken,
And the earth is shaken.
They look on Him whom they have pierced, and so fulfill,
The prophecies about the Man they kill.

Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani – why are you so far from saving me?
Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!

The Passover turns terrifying,
The weather is all science defying.
And then the Centurion gives Him laud –
“Surely this man is the Son of God.”

The crowds that had seen what had taken place,
Went home with sorrowful face.
Each returned beating his breast,
After breath had escaped His chest.