Lent

I am a wounded, beaten man,
Lord. You picked me up near Jericho,
Bruised and bleeding, You held me,
Rubbished by the passers by.
You took me up tenderly,
Spent time with me,
And left me cared for
On Your way to Jerusalem,
Where they wounded You,
Beat You and killed You,
And I was not there to tend Your wounds,
Where they hung You at midnight,
Thieves who took You away from us
And left us shredded, weeping on the road.