All our ‘why’s, our tears,
our anguished cries, seem hollow
set against the silent skies–
does heaven not hear?
But God is near, He
reaches down, bent down to wear
our thorny crown, and
stretches hands to us,
as stretched His arms upon the cross.
Our pain is answered cruciform;
our why is stilled at His reply,
“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani!”
the cry that answers all our pain–
death’s death-knell, most awful,
most wonderful, numinous strain.
And grief will be ended,
and joy live again.