"Eloi, Eloi,      
Lama Sabachthani"*
  *A cry uttered by Jesus Christ      
while dying on the cross,       
preserved in the original Aramaic:       
"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?"
  Father,      
Now the sun is risen,       
I thank Thee for Thy silent strength       
Given me in my hour of despair--       
When the darkness       
Seemed to smother,       
And the tears       
I selfishly shed       
For my own pain       
And trivial troubles       
Shut out the light,       
And I rendered myself       
Alone. 
Father,      
Now Thy Son is risen,       
I thank Thee for allowing One       
So much greater than I       
Thine Only Begotten,       
Flesh of Thy flesh,       
To complete a task so       
Wonderful and       
Terrible       
By leaving Him       
Necessarily       
Alone. 
Father,      
In the garden green of Olivet,       
In the still and solitude       
The Creator of everything       
Offered up all He had,       
And submitted Himself       
To all the vengeance of Hell;       
And in His hour of need,       
The Friend of the friendless       
Was forsaken,       
Forgotten,       
For what?       
Although the spirit was willing       
The flesh indeed was weak;       
And they slumbered,       
Leaving Him,       
The Balm of mortal pain,       
To suffer,       
Alone. 
In the beauty of that desert place,      
The Savior of mankind       
Faced all the ugliness       
His charges could offer:       
The pain, the hate,       
The sin, the sorrow,       
The waste, the wickedness,       
The pride, the poverty,       
The deceit, the ignorance,       
The doubt, the fear,       
The betrayal       
--And even the       
Loneliness--       
Alone. 
As His immortal, righteous blood      
Was spilled, like sweat       
From every pore       
And fell to the thirsty earth below,       
I cannot hide       
My honor and my awe       
At His great love for me;       
Neither can I hide       
My shame,       
Self-reproach       
And regret. For       
How many of those precious drops       
Am I responsible for?       
--As He suffered       
The bitter cup,       
Alone. 
The longest night      
the world will ever know,       
The solstice of eternity,       
Fell on Emmanuel       
And by the light of torches       
The Light of the world,       
The very God of Love,       
Was betrayed by a kiss,       
Enslaved by strangers,       
Rejected by His own,       
Denied by those who       
Knew Him best,       
And led away       
In chains       
Alone. 
How it must have hurt Thee      
To witness the sufferings       
Of Thy Beloved       
Inflicted by Thine other children--       
Those whom He had come to save;       
To steadfastly persevere,       
And answer not a word,       
Amidst the jeers       
The blows,       
The spit       
And scorn;       
To see His perfect body torn,       
His perfect soul rent in anguish,       
Staggering and fainting beneath       
The evil and imperfection       
Of all mortality       
Collectively       
Alone. 
And Thou,      
Beyond the grasp of human pain       
Did surely mourn at the       
Mocking of His misery       
By so many witnesses and       
Beneficiaries of His       
Miracles and ministry--       
Those who knew better;       
Who unworthily       
And ungratefully       
Bore Thy birthright;       
Those with whom Thou had       
Cut they covenant       
Now cut the flesh of Thy Son       
Deliberately.       
And in the crowded mob       
He wept       
Alone. 
Down the winding passages of      
The City of Peace,       
Stumbled the Prince of Peace.       
Plaited thorns adorned His crown;       
Stripped of all but His       
Mantle of Duty;       
How it must have burdened Thee       
To see Thine Own,       
Who in innocence       
Did glorify Thy name,       
Bearing a scapegoat's load--       
The weight thereof       
Not unfamiliar to Thee,       
Which could so mercifully have been loosed       
By Thy Omnipotence;       
Yet in the name of mercy       
Didst Thou allow       
This charade of justice       
To continue.       
At a crossroads He was lifted up       
Upon the cruel cross.       
And in His torment,       
When He needed Thee most,       
Thou left Him       
Unwillingly       
Alone.  
  
Father,       
In the vastness of Thy creations,       
was there any place large enough       
To contain the immensity       
Of Thy sorrow?       
Was there any place small enough       
And far enough away       
To hide from the pleas and cries       
Of Thy suffering Son?       
Until the moment He pronounced       
"It is finished."       
Triumphing, at last       
Alone.  
  
In olden times, the Scriptures say       
Thou wert a jealous God described;       
I think I know now why--       
Jealous lest man ever       
Slight,       
Forget,       
Or with anything replace       
The memory of the Sacrifice       
Made by Thy Son       
Alone.  
  
O Father,       
I thank Thee       
For sacrificing Thy       
Fatherhood for Thy       
Godhood, by       
Giving us Thy Son       
To pay the ransom we could not.       
And by so doing,       
Thy righteous heart was broken also--       
For what Father could bear to see       
His helpless child suffer       
And not rush to his aid?       
--Instead, to leave him       
Intentionally       
Alone.  
  
O Father,       
I thank Thee       
That through the tears that fell       
From His eyes       
And from Thine,       
That my tears may be dried       
And my eyes opened       
To the Hope of my Salvation,       
And the reassurance of my       
Eternal worth       
--In spite of myself--       
That my meager life       
Was worth dying for.       
And He died       
For me, and       
Because of me,       
That I might live for Him,       
In all my days serving Him       
As tool and ambassador       
Of the love He had for us;       
The love that gave purpose to His life       
And life to His purpose.       
Father, I acknowledge my       
Hungering need       
To bear and be borne by the       
Unconditional Love of Christ,       
Who unselfishly serves all those who but       
Come unto Him.       
As Counsellor,       
Advocate       
And Friend;       
That neither I,       
Nor any of us       
Need ever be       
Alone.  
  
Father,       
Let me let Him in!       
Let His Light fill the recesses of my soul,       
That darkness and evil       
Find no place.       
Let me always make room       
For Him for Whom the inn was full.       
Let your Spirit make me wise enough       
To seek the King of Kings       
As the Magi did;       
And as       
Wise men       
Still and       
Always do.       
Let me ever joy       
In that same glory       
That was witnessed       
To lowly shepherds       
Long ago.       
Praise be       
To the Father       
And the Son!       
The glory be       
To Him and Thee       
Alone.  
  
Please bless me,       
Dear Father,       
That I may live my days       
In remembrance       
Of Him Whose hands       
First sculpted me in clay.       
Whose hands now rest in Thine;       
Those hands       
Thou once suffered       
To be pierced       
For my sake.       
Father, wouldst Thou bless me,       
That as He bore my burdens,       
I may lift all those around me       
With whom I share this       
Borrowed existence--       
For Thy sacrifice,       
And His,       
Was not for me       
Alone.  
  
And in His name may I       
Heal the poor in Spirit,       
Feed those enhungered       
Of body or soul;       
Build up where others tear down;       
Make Peace       
Spread Love;       
Share       
His       
Hope;       
That as I represent Him       
In my small corner of the world,       
No one I meet       
Will ever be       
In need,       
In doubt,       
or       
Alone. 
by Keith Clayton, Jr. 1968-1998

The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.”
Matthew 28:5-6




 






