The day before the quiet dawn of loss
all are gathered near, but deserted
This is done alone, a sacrifice, silent
no fight, no condemnation, no legions
Only dark and silence, abandoned
he has to do this alone, forsaken
The women watch, one disciple
a mother's disgrace and full sorrow
At the end he is hastily taken for burial
a borrowed grave, a shameful cross
We sit today and ask can we, do we
know what true sacrifice is
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