I hear the echo
Of the hammer.
Driving nails of
Tarnished steel
Misshapen, imperfect,
Wielded by a hand
Misshapen, imperfect.
Metal on metal
Sends out a lament
To laughing men
And wincing women
Echo returning with
A different cry, my cry.
Holy hands receive
The piercers strike
Holy feet are dealt
The evil spike
Blow
After blow
After blow.
The instrument beats
A dreadful melody
And demons dance the
Dance of the dead
But soon, so soon
Will dance no more.
The Crucified One
With bruised eyes
And thorned agony
Hears my own cry
Over His own,
Still willing.
Still offering His hands, His feet
Blow
After blow
After blow.