Good Friday Poem

In keeping with tradition where we write an angel poem that relates to the holiday, we have one for Good Friday. It appeared on our blog last year. We repost it today as we commemorate the day of Jesus' death on the cross.

As you read and reflect on the words, may the significance of this holy day resonate anew inside your heart.

Darkest Hours
by Evangeline B. White
first posted 3.30.18

On the Mount drops fell from His forehead down
Sweat and blood dripped when no one was around
The others fell asleep, unable to pray
It was the beginning of the darkest day
An angel came and ministered to Jesus
Gave Him strength for the price He'd pay to free us
The crowd who praised Him the week before
Came to betray Him, honor Him no more
With swords and false words they came to indict
Rome against the Savior, yet He withheld His might
His disciples scattered no more in sight
They knew this wasn't good and shrunk in fright
Brought before Pilate and Herod He was
beaten, mocked, insulted, spit upon because
Darkness reigned during those hours
When the Son of God relinquished His power
Angels could have come at the sound of His voice
But they watched and waited as this was God's choice
Women mourned and wailed for the cross was His fate
On His shoulders sat the whole world's weight
A crown of thorns was forced upon His head
The charge against Him, "King of the Jews," it read
His skin ripped apart from His head to His feet
Beyond recognition He had been beat
With a final cry He breathed His last breath
It was the darkest day, the Savior's death.


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