Looking down at the blood-stained earth.
At the faces of the angry mob,
Who have spit, beaten, and cursed Him.
At the tears of the faithful followers,
That knew He was their Savior.
At the tumbling dice,
That were cast for His clothing.
At the smiling faces of the over-joyed Roman guards,
As they laugh and mock Him,
While He is nailed by three spikes on a tree.
At the feet of the other two criminals
Nailed to wood beside Him.
At the tear-stricken face of a woman.
At the sorrow-filled eyes of that same woman,
His mother.
As the last teardrop fell from His mother's eyes,
As the last drop of blood fell from his wounds,
Staining the ground,
It was finished!
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