Stations of The Cross - Twelfth Station

                   Jesus on the cross; his mother and his friend

                      

                                      John 19: 26,27

 

                   

                     Gathered at the foot of the cross,

                     We have come to grieve our loss.

                     That this should be, we could not see,

                     That he would leave us this way.

                     As the one who had come to save,

 

                     Through the pain he perceives them.

                     A huddled group, united in distress,

                     Their agony is for him, which moves him,

                     To the urge to give the comfort they deserve

                     The women, the disciple he loves, and

                     She, who carried such responsibility.

 

                      Can you see me, Jesus my son,

                      Can you see that I have come?

                      How could I have been kept away,

                      When I see what they have done.

                      If I could, I would wipe your face,

                      If I could, I would take your place.

 

                      He still has enough time left to atone,

                      For all the times he went alone,

                      When it was first the Fathers voice,

                      He heard, and not hers, and yet she

                      Never complained, when he went

                      Away, and could not explain, but

                      Now he can see, she is with his

                      Cousin – John bar Zebedee.

 

                      My courage left me – I fled away,

                      When he was taken at Gethsemane.

                      How could I then accuse Judas, when

                      My love for him became a deceit,

                      When it was tested by its defeat.                  

                      Could he forgive, if I ask again?

                      My penance shall be my attendance,

                      To be with him to the bitter end.

 

                       He has become his pain, it ebbs and flows,

                       With every breath, measured by the time

                       He can take, while supported on the rest.

                       And time, like his breath is sliding away.

                       It spurs him to attend to their despair.

                       He can feel their grief, one to another

                       He says to her: “Mother, here is now your son”.

                       And to John: “Beloved, there is now your mother”.

                       From this day they will care for each other.

                       

                                        © D G Moody 2023