Cut Off, Yet His Days Run On (folk ballad) After sixty-two weeks, the word came down, The Anointed One destroyed. No judgment left in Him, they said, The city and the holy place Cut off as in a flood. Forty years the lot stayed left, The crimson thread stayed red. The western lamp went dark at dusk, The sanctuary doors swung wide As if the house already knew. They led Him like the asham blood, The guilt-gift on the ground. Not bull, not goat, not scarlet wool — One life poured out, and still they say The books were not yet closed. Cut off from the land of the living, Yet He will prolong His days. The remnant lifts its face and sees A kingdom they were told would come When sacrifice went still. Jonathan sang a conquering king, The nations under foot. The letters say the same Man fell And rose with days that do not end — Cut off, and living still. So lay the thread, lay down the lot, The lamp, the swinging door. The blood that speaks is better blood Than all the asham ever bought. The wheel of offerings stops. (soft last line) Cut off — and still His days run on.
