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The Story of the Walk
He came for us
He came for us but left
However, he has not gone.
He showed us life, and as a result lost his.
With a thorn crown covered in sweat and blood
He marched up the hill that divided life and death.
He carried a cross and a burden.
On his back he carried wooden beams, and the foundation
For future hope.
Those who had greeted him and celebrated him,
Spit on him as he passed tired and weak through the city.
Those who did not spit or throw stones at him denied him.
He had to carry the entire world by himself.
And we are not grateful.
When you walk down a busy street
Just about evening when the sun has given its
Last farewell. Think about it, how many people have
Called his name in vain?
How many have thrown stones? How many have denied him?
How many of those that pass you actually understand his story?
And why did he have to suffer for the world that cares nothing
We shut our eyes and close our ears and hope to forget him
But we can’t do that.
He had his hands pierced for the fate of those who mock him.
For those who curse him and those who wish not to know him.
He was a symbol of life and peace; he still is to this day.
There on the hill
Stood a man who is the beginning
And will show us the end.
A man who lived, loved, and laughed.
A man who marched up the hill.
And will one day come back for us.