He died upon the fearful tree,
Upon an April day,
Atop the hill of Calvary,
As all men know and say;

Three years and thirty He had walked
Upon this beauteous earth;
With sinners He had dined and talked
And joined in merry mirty.

He'd turned the water into wine
And healed who were in pain;
He'd worked full many a wondrous sign
Again and yet again:

He'd raised a man for four days dead,
Released him from the grave;
At His command the demons fled;
He came to earth to save.

The Pharisees they hated Him,
This Man Who spoke so plain:
They sought to tear Him limb from limb
So He'd not speak again:

They nailed Him to the Cross so fell
Till all His Blood outpoured,
And He delivered us from Hell
And each infernal horde.

And when He had been in the grave
And dead as dead could be,
And laid within the sepulchre
For days that numbered three,

He rose once more to life again,
As He had said He would;
His Dying had not been in vain,
But was our greatest good.

And though each one of us has sinned
And all deserve to die,
Let us place all our hope in Him
That we may live on high,

That we may cast our eyes on Him
Who always reigns above,
Yet higher than the Seraphim,
Our Everlasting Love.

(David Mitchell, 22nd February 2024.)