The battered, flayed man. Many jeered.
Blood soaked His pierced crown and purple robe. Guards pressed him to Prefect Marcus Pontius Pilatus.
He said to the Jews, “Behold your King!”
They cried out, “Away with him, away with him, crucify him!”
Pilate said to them, “Shall I crucify your King?”
The chief priests answered, “We have no king but Caesar.”
Bearing his crossbeam, he was paraded, fell, pulled up
and goaded to the place of The Skull. Women teared.
Under skies bleak and drear, hoisted on a gibbet,
tied, and nailed, a placard inscribed nailed over his head:
Iesvs Nazarenvs Rex Iudaeorvm.*
Lord, I revere, and stretch wide my hands.
Heavy with sin, I lift up my heart.
My cross is a feather next to yours.
My day is late afternoon.
My hour is approaching.
Curfew is near. Dawn is clear.
Peter Venable
