It Should Have Been Me

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It should have been me
Crushed for my iniquity
While I was an enemy
It should have been me
Despised and rejected
Smitten and afflicted
It should have been me
Broken and spilled out
God’s wrath poured out
It should have been me

Behind the lines

He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs

and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
(Isaiah 53:4-5 ESV)

Love Remained

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All was beauty, all was song,
All was evil, all was wrong,
Destroyed, drowned, every town,
Love remained.

Altogether, all one tongue,
All confused, all tools hung,
Silenced, cursed, dispersed,
Love remained

All enslaved, all plagues come,
All rescued, Almighty won,
Complained, fed, cloud led,
Love remained.

All God’s people, all twelve tribes,
Altar of bronze, all the scribes,
Religion, pride, great divide,
Love remained.

Almighty comes, all angels sing,
Alleluia, all praise the King,
Despised, tried, denied,
Love remained.

All in sorrow, all the shame
All completed, all the pain,
Forsaken, crowned, renowned,
Love remained.

All astonished, all relieved,
All death conquered, all believe,
Risen, Lord, adored,
Love remained.

All have heard it, all made known,
All have seen Him, all below,
Returned, King, anthems ring,
Love remained.

All is beauty, all is song,
No more evil, no more wrong,
Renewed, changed, unstained,
Love remained.

Ride on, Ride on in Majesty

Henry Hart Milman (1791–1868) wrote what many consider the best Palm Sunday hymn ever. I like the up and down movement his poetry creates. As we’re riding along on the donkey we see the palms scattered on the ground, we sense the lowliness of Christ knowing what difficulty lies ahead, then we’re taken up to angels watching with great interest, while the Father observes knowing He must soon pour out His wrath on His Son. Then, in the last verse, we’re brought down to complete the ride to the cross where Jesus bows his head in death, only to rise again to reign victorious.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Hark, all the tribes hosanna cry,
Thy humble beast pursues his road,
With palms and scattered garments strowed.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die,
O Christ thy triumph now begin,
O’er captive death and conquered sin.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
The winged squadrons of the sky,
Look down with sad and wond’ring eyes,
To see the approaching Sacrifice.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh;
The Father on his sapphire throne,
Awaits his own anointed Son.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die;
Bow thy meek head to mortal pain,
Then take, O God, thy power and reign.

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