Hiding in the crowd hoping God did not see,
the part that I'd played in Christ's agony.
For I'd cried "Hosanna," then, "Crucify."
Stood there at His trial and watched Him die.
Saw the sadistic soldiers and fickle crowd,
with Pilate standing there pompous and proud.
Stood and watched this miscarriage of the law
that was so brutal, so offensive and so raw
Jesus stood silent in the midst of it all,
the scapegoat upon whom God's wrath would fall.
It should have been me. For I'm the guilty one.
It should have been me. Not God's belovèd Son.