The Stumbling Block

The King has come and entered here, so come and look to see Him there! Make way, sound trumpets, get the Robes all pressed, the King will arrive soon so prepare your best!

Waiting, ever waiting, we wait on Thee, the King, He comes to rescue me!

But what’s this form, we do not know? We looked and looked, only high, not low. Behold, no King do we such see, only a peasant arising from Galilee!

We expected Purple, we expected Rule, but He who comes rides on a mule. We expected High, the Judgement Seat, but He who comes, He washes feet!

No power, or victory has He achieved, for us righteouss people who are without need. No Sword, and no Sheild to our enemies (for they are all earthly, or so we percieved).

Sure a few tricks can He boast but Pharoh’s men proved they could do most, so nothing is left for us to do, except to condemn this Profaner of Truth.

We must act fast to undo His effect, poor people following this False Prophet. And O! how He gets us in terrible binds, questions He asks that boggle our minds!

And He lies and tells you things He can do, destroy His Body and He’ll raise it three days up from the Tomb.

Take Him away! His own man willing to betray, what company He keeps that gives Him away.

He’s ours now, to do as we wish, just a few visits and a crack of the whip. So Pilate gave in to our earnest pleas, for right of protecting the people from He. (A Rebel we thought, but the rebels it seemed were really only rebels busy with schemes.)

Now to the place where He could be seen, By all who pass by as the most terrible fiend! Rex, He was most certainly not, so for humor’s sake the soldiers cast lots.

He cries! And He begs! But so odd is His manner that I wish He were dead! What does He say to the wretch nearby that of all things He should mention, Paradise?

And a wail! And a yell! I think this is it! All our work is now done, yes He’s right, it is finished! But make sure that He’s dead, we want to be certain that this was His end.

So tragic is this, the life that He lived, too short and too useless that He should be dead. And, you know, it really is such a shame, that now He is gone and no one will remember His Name.

But Lord hear my plea, grant not an unbelieving heart to thee,

That I should neglect, when You will for certain bring Your Elect.


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