It was but a Friday when my Savior died;
They beat him
they mocked him
then he was crucified
between common criminals at the edge of the town.

My king carried no scepter
He wore no bright crown
With thorns in his forehead
A sword pierced his side
He seemed but a failure
as he hung there and died.

But the veil of the temple
was rent right in two
and the sky up above was no longer blue
and the thunder from heaven
pierced uneasy hearts
as they watched my dear savior
as his life did depart from his body
that we, a new life could start

 

They thought that they killed him
as he hung on that tree
And it seemed to them right —
For how could it be
that the Lord of all Nations
would let himself die.
Would he not ask for help –
from his angels on high?

But death could not hold Him
and the third day He rose
and the door that He opened
no one ever might close.
The path up to heaven
has been marked with His blood
and the way we can find it
is to serve Him in love.

It was but a Friday
when my Savior died
They beat Him,
they mocked Him
and He was crucified
between common criminals
on the edge of the town.

But let the mourners keep silent
Let our praise to Him fly
for He is King of All Worlds
and His day draweth nigh.