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