A persona poem of Christ on Psalm 22.
My God, My God, why leave My side?
Why seems Your face in shadows hide?
I cry by day; no rest I find,
and through the night, You’re far behind.
Yet You are holy, throned on Praise;
our fathers Trusted You all their days.
They cried to You and were set free, —
their Hope secured with restored glee.
But I’m a Worm—despised, alone;
by mocking crowds My state is known.
“He trusts in God,” they jeer and say.
“Let God deliver Him today.”
From birth, You’ve been My Help, My stay;
You brought Me to this fleeting day.
So near, yet Trouble circles wide
like roaring lions on every side.
My strength is gone, My bones laid bare;
My heart dissolves in deep Despair.
They pierce My Hands, they pierce My Feet,
divide My clothes, their gains complete.
But, O Lord, don’t stay so far away;
be swift to Save—to break Dismay.
I’ll tell Your name to all who hear;
Your Praise shall echo far and near.
The Meek will feast, the nations bow;
Your reign begins Eternal now.
The ends of Earth shall rise to Sing,
for You alone are Lord and King.
A people yet unborn shall share
the deeds of God beyond compare.
And they shall speak, till time is done,
of all You’ve wrought through Me, Your Son.
The Lutheran Column 