It Is Finished

In the garden where the olive trees weep,

He knelt alone while the others fell asleep.

With blood like sweat fallin’ down to the stone,

He whispered, “Father, not my will, but Your own.”

Then came Judas with that cold, cursed kiss,

Sold the Savior for silver—and eternal abyss.

The ones He healed dragged Him down like a thief,

And the Pharisees laughed through their venom and grief.

Oh, the Lamb walked that lonesome hill,

Every stripe on His back for the sinner’s guilt.

He bore the shame we all deserved,

And still He spoke with mercy’s words:

“Father, forgive them, they don’t understand…”

As the nails pierced love into His hands.

Pilate washed his hands, but the stains stayed red,

And the crowd cried for blood, “Crucify Him!” they said.

He was beaten with whips till His flesh turned raw,

Yet He opened not His mouth, fulfilling the law.

The cross on His shoulders, a burden so wide,

He stumbled and fell, but got up for the ride.

Through mocking and spitting, through thorns and the jeers,

He carried the cross for two thousand years.

Oh, the Lamb walked that lonesome hill,

Every step was a promise He’d fulfill.

He bore the weight of every lie,

Of every soul too lost to cry.

And still He prayed through all the pain:

“Father, forgive them” through the flame.

Then darkness fell on that cursed place,

As the sky turned away from the Father’s face.

He cried, “My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

As prophecy echoed through Calvary’s tree.

With His final breath and the veil torn clean,

He broke the chains of death unseen.

He looked to heaven and bowed His head,

And in the silence, the Savior said—

“It is finished,” the debt is paid,

The grave lost its grip, and the price was made.

Love hung there on a rugged beam,

Bleeding hope into our broken dreams.

The Son of God, the sinless One,

Finished the fight and rose with the sun.

Now every cross and every cry

Finds redemption in His sacrifice.

He walked the road we never could…

And turned that tree into something good.