Why Must This Be?

AN EASTER MESSAGEWhy Must This Be? I stood alone on a mountaintop,
By a tall and silent pine;
The sun had left in the sky above,
A jagged, crimson line. I had come alone, I was sure of that,
And yet it seemed quite clear,
That there were people round about,
Pushing and crowding near. And then before my startled eyes,
A vivid scene appeared;
I heard the voice of an angry mob,
As they swore and laughed and jeered. They were coming closer to where I stood,
And I caught my breath as they came,
For there in the midst was One with a cross,
Weary and bent and lame. Upon His brow was a crown of thorns,
His face was marred with blood,
And His feet as they stumbled along the way,
Left a scarlet trail in the road. My heart was filled with pain and fear,
And I tried to turn and flee,
But a voice spoke softly in my ear,
“Stay, it’s for you to see.” When I looked again, they had reached the top,
Excitement was everywhere;
The One with the cross laid down His load,
And silently waited there. I knew too well what was coming next,
And my heart stood still within;
I struggled forward and cried aloud,
But my voice was lost in the din. The thud of the hammer faded away,
The cruel task was done;
I raised my eyes and they filled with tears
As I gazed on the dying One. “My God, my God, why must this be?”
I asked in deep despair;
Again the Voice, accusing now,
“It was you who nailed Him there.” The awful truth swept over my soul,
I bowed my head in shame;
I should be dying there, not He,
For I was the one to blame. I knelt at the foot of that rugged cross,
“O Savior,” I cried, “Forgive!
As You did give Your life for me,
For You now let me live.” By Lura Ingles