On Calvary's mount,
Salvation's account,
Steadily unfold
Like a tale of the old.
The king of kings;
Creator of all things.
Nailed on a cross
For my sins so gross.
Tortured and wounded,
Scourged and hounded.
Pierced with spears
Till blood appears.
Unto his father, he gives a cry.
With his lips, vinegar-dry.
He breathes his last
And dies alas!
There's an earthquake,
The dead awake.
The temple curtain tears apart,
The startled soldiers all depart.
The bread of life is dead!?
No hope ever ahead?
The confused disciples doubt,
His diety talked he about?
Burried in a guarded tomb
Like a child in a mother's womb,
None can tell his fate
Except those with his resurrection's faith.
On the quiet Sunday morn,
After three days mourn,
The saviour thus resurrected -
Shamefully death defeated.
The victory has been won
By Jesus the living one.
His blood was shed for us.
Salvation for he who believes thus.
Tis' the gospel we preach to all;
Every man great or small -
The bad, good, poor and rich.
The saviour in everyone's reach.
Happy Sunday to y'all. Jesus liveth!
