Cosmopolite

Jesus witness to the truth, beaten and rebuked. A crown for the king, needle sharp thorns will do. And his scepter? a stick to beat upon his back. A robe of purple for this king. Then after all the laughs, the man of peace was made to carry a heavy rough hued cross up the bleak and stony path to the Skull Place Golgotha. There they stripped away his royal robe, stretched him naked on his wood beamed cross, fixed him there with fierce iron spikes, hammered through his gentle hands, hands that healed the sick and blessed to poor, nailed him there upon that rood-tree crucifix. Then raised him up, upon his cross, into the darken sky to suffer, bleed and die. And above his head, above his crown of thorns, a placard mocked, This is Jesus of Nazareth king of the Jews.
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