The place was called Golgatha

On a hill so far away...

Where the savior of mankind,

Was to die that very day.

 

Three crosses stood upon that hill,

The Savior bore his own.

And cruelly did they nail him there,

No love or mercy shown.

 

Through his wrists and palms,

The nails were driven through.

He asked forgiveness for them all,

For the thing that they must do.

 

The thieves were worthy of the cross,

They knew their sins meant death.

In doing the things that they had done.

They would pay with their last breath.

 

But, Jesus hung there on that cross...

With pain beyond belief,

There was no one to save him,

No surcease or relief.

 

Without a sin to mar his life,

But, in righteousness divine,

He made the final sacrifice,

For love of all mankind.

 

The crucifixion of the Lord,

Would change the world that day.

For repentance and forgiveness,

Would become the chosen way.

 

That sacrifice upon the cross,

Jesus dying for all mankind,

Was that we might live eternally,

Embraced by love divine.

 

The place was called Golgatha,

Where the crosses numbered three.

That Jesus gave His life that day,

Was the gift ... eternity!