The head which laughed in infant glee,
The head which held the mind of God,
The head betrayed by traitor's kiss,
The head which bore both thorn and rod...
It lives in truth, now hangs in pain
And bears the weight of God's disdain.
The heart which hurt for king and slave,
The heart which felt each hope and fear,
The heart which wept at silent grave,
The heart which freely took the spear...
It aches for truth and lives in grace,
Worthy alone to see God's face.
The hand which grasped both cloth and hay.
the hand which touched the blind to see,
The hands which, broken, broke the bread
The hands, pierced, to set men free...
They, firm and soft, forever prove
The paradox of truth and love.
He who was Great became the least
Became for us the highest Priest
He who, alike, was Lord and man
Showed to us His head, heart and hand.
-Danielle
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