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March 21, 2008

The Iniquity of Us All

The blood remains as red
That colours our spirits white
The blood remains as warm
That paints black skies with fire
But clouds are round about You...
And shadows veil Your eyes
The Ghost is ever sure
Who holds tight for precious life
The blood remains as rich
That poor sinners drink like wine
The blood remains as warm
That paints black skies with fire

"But they were urgent, demanding with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed. . .

"[T]here followed him a great multitude of the people and of women who were mourning and lamenting for him. But turning to them Jesus said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, 'Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!'. . .

"And Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." And they cast lots to divide his garments. And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!". . .

It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sunís light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!" And having said this he breathed his last."



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