They led Him to Golgotha's hill, Placed a crown of thorns on His head, The King of Glory mocked and beaten, In our place His blood was shed. They drove the nails through hands and feet, The same hands that formed the earth, They lifted high the Son of God, He died to bring us second birth. The sky went dark at midday hour, The earth began to quake and mourn, As Jesus bore the Father's judgment, Carried all our guilt and scorn, "It is finished!" was His victory cry, The debt of our sin was fully paid, The curtain was torn from top to bottom, The path to the Father forever laid. But the story doesn't end with death, Three days in the borrowed tomb, Then the angel rolled the stone away, Death defeated, shattered gloom. He rose in power and in glory, Conquered sin and hell and grave, Then ascended back to Heaven, The First, the Last, the One who saves.
