Our Substitute
Subsumed in Him, all human agony
Was concentrated at Gethsemane.
Mere language fails, all images exhaust,
In view of Christ’s climactic holocaust.
His voice, unrecognised in Nazi camps,
Where milliard Jews refused to hear Him speak,
Rose high in hoarse crescendo, through biting cramps
Of anguish in extremity, to shriek,
“It is accomplished! ” Done. He bowed His head.
Soldiers aghast, forbore to break His legs.
They pierced His stationary heart instead.
The Son of David, drank sin to the dregs.
Shamed! Destined to be lynched and crucified,
That we, unblamed, might be indemnified.
poem by Peter Eliastam
Added by Poetry Lover
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