If He Had Faltered Even Once

They spit upon His meekness, 

And struck Him in the face. 

Their floggers swung with hatred; 

They stripped Him in disgrace. 

Deep worked the Roman anger 

That tortured Him, a Jew; 

Yet this His contemplation: 

“They know not what they do.” 

 

His people cheered “Hosanna,” 

Then had Him crucified. 

They freed corrupt Barabbas; 

To sentence Him, they lied. 

He hung outside their city, 

Where leaders mocked Him too; 

Yet this, the hurt He carried: 

“I would have gathered you.” 

 

No angels came to help Him 

When Heaven on Him fell. 

The Devil tried to reach Him 

Through ev’ry lie in hell. 

Unthinkable the anguish 

As Father crushed the Son, 

Yet this His firm conviction: 

“Thy will, not mine, be done.” 

 

No selfishness, no hatred, 

No spitefulness was there. 

No unbelief, no cursing, 

No pity from despair. 

One sinful thought; one failure, 

And Love would not succeed. 

The ransomed souls of hist’ry 

Must His perfection plead. 

 

If He had faltered even once, 

In flames of hell would men abide. 

Then ponder Christ, and praise at length 

The strength of Him there crucified. 

   

-- K. Hartnett, May 2007

 

I wrote this one backwards, i.e. having the idea for the last four lines before writing the rest.  Verse one highlights Christ's physical sufferings; verse two, His emotional/mental and verse three, His spiritual.  The colossal irony that the very men who tempted Him to failure were among those He died in perfection to save captures my imagination - and praise.