“Behold the Lamb of God,” the Baptist cries
The Christ repents of evil not his own
He steps down to the chilling stream that once
Gave way before another Joshua,
That those he led might reach the promised land
Now he descends into the surging deep
The waters rush above his head, and then
He rises, breathing deeply once again
The cloudy curtain of the heavens tears
A Voice proclaims him God’s beloved Son
The Lamb up to the slaughterhouse is led
To bear the weight of evil not his own
Guilt pulls him down toward death as mockers shout
At him to save himself, but he will not
That those he leads might reach the promised land
Thus He descends into the damp, dark grave and waits
To rise. But now He yields His dying breath
The sacred curtain of the temple tears
A man declares, “This was the Son of God.”
