Blood On My Hands
I was there when they arrested Him, it was in the middle of the night
Quite a few of us had gathered close and we were ready for a fight
He’d been marked by the Sanhedran, by a betrayer who’d been bought
Our plan was set to kill this man and end his threat to Jewish thought
Many claimed he was a prophet, his life for all he’d gladly give
But then he said he was Messiah and for that he would not live
We took him to the High Priest, his blood we wanted spilled
Accusations would be made and then we knew He would be killed
Not once did He resist us nor countered what we’d said
He did not defend His honor though He knew he’d soon be dead
He was beaten by the Romans and was whipped beyond belief
And although I will deny it, when they were done I felt relief
Then he was made to carry the very instrument of death
To the top of mount Golgotha where he’d breathe His final breath
There I lashed Him to the cross beam, put nails in His hands and feet
I then raised the cross to heaven and quickly took a seat
I wanted to observe his death, to hear his final cry
But it was not what I expected from a man about to die
He said, “Father, please forgive them for they know not what they do”
He then turned his eyes to heaven saying, “I give my Spirit back to You”
Phillip Good (From the heart of an average MK)
Remnant's Edge 
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