naked, alone, cold cobblestones they beat Him until the blood ran they brought Him to die, on a cross, up on-high with spikes through His feet and His
Go and get your prophets Gather all your fools The four-hundred fifty And then bring a couple bulls A little preperation So be sure and bring some tools
A Work of Love What could make a man go up On a cross to die for us Just when the devil's push had come to shove What could leave the empty grave Carrying
