Up on a tree, placed they the King of Majesty,
Up on His hands and feet, they raised our Lord, beat;
Up He pulls to grasp some air, there laid Jehovah all things bare;
Up He cries, why do you forsake me, I’m a man of no lies?
Across His face, the blood marks a man not spared any grace,
Across His head, the thorn crown now painfully wed,
Across His back, torn flesh, from incessant attack.
Across His side, a spear is pierced inside!
Down into the depths He plunges and dies; searching out the woeful heart cries;
Down into the heat damned eternal, he descends into satan’s cursed home infernal;
Down amidst the pain and anguishing screams; stands a “preacher” with the gospel of heavenly “dreams”;
Down amidst the saints He tells the story, and marches back up unto ‘Heavenly Glory’.
Up into the heavens, he doth ascend, followed by those so dear as a “friend”,
Up into the sky , and way up high, stands the Lord near the God, Adonai!
Up in the heavens, He approaches the throne, and places the blood that will ever atone;
Up in the heavens begins a “shout of glory”, for herein begins a “beautiful story”.