Upon the hill of Calvary,
Love bore the weight for you and me.
With thorn-crowned brow and wounded side,
The Son of God was crucified.
He walked the path of scorn and shame,
Endured the lash, the mocking name.
With every step, He bore our grief—
Each drop of blood, a soul's relief.
His hands were pierced, His body torn,
For every heart that’s lost, forlorn.
The Lamb was silent, pure and true,
Yet all He suffered, He knew for you.
The sky grew dark, the earth did shake,
The veil was torn for Heaven’s sake.
Creation wept as Jesus cried,
"It is finished," and then He died.
But death could not hold Heaven’s King,
The grave gave way to rising spring.
He conquered sin, He broke the chain,
And rose in power to rule and reign.
O Passion pure, O love so wide,
No greater gift, no deeper tide.
He bled to bring the world to grace,
And now we seek His holy face.
©heavenecho
H