Lord, so often we forget
You did not want to die.
At the very thought
you were wracked with grief,
Troubled and sorrowful.
We forget how you struggled
As you prayed
With tears and groans,
words could not express.
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We forget that
You laid down your life in the garden,
Hours before you went to the cross.
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So help us not to see you,
With rose tinted story book eyes,
Help us to understand,
The anguish in your blood stained
Sweat soaked brow,
Show us again
If only in part,
The price you paid,
To set us free.
