01/04/2026
HOLY WEEK COMMUNION 🌿
Upon the hill where silence wept,
And shadows stretched their claim,
A rugged cross pierced earth and sky,
And Love bore all our shame.
His hands, once warm with healing touch,
Were opened wide in pain,
Yet every drop of crimson grace
Fell not in loss—but gain.
The thorns that crowned His gentle brow
Spoke not of defeat, but King—
For even in suffering deep,
He reigned over everything.
The weight He carried was not wood
But every soul’s despair,
Each hidden fault, each silent cry,
Was lifted with Him there.
“Forgive,” He breathed through trembling lips,
For those who turned away—
And mercy flowed like endless dawn
At break of darkest day.
The veil was torn, the stone would yield,
Death trembled at His voice—
For in that cross of agony,
He made the world rejoice.
O sacred tree, O crimson tide,
Where justice kissed with grace—
The work was finished, love complete,
And hope found its place.
