| In the first hour of the day
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| Our Lord, he finally knows that
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| Like a murderer he’ll be judged
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| By that heathen Pontius Pilate
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| Pilate shall refuse the blame
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| And wash his hands in water
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| Then the innocent condemned
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| The innocent condemned
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| Sent off to the slaughter
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| In the third hour God’s own son
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| Flails and scourges flayed him
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| On his head a thorny crown
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| That the soldiers had made him
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| Dressed in rags and mockery
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| Oh, they beat him and deride him
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| And the cross of his own death
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| The cross of his own death
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| He’ll drag along beside him
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| In the sixth hour, naked and cold
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| On a cross they staked him
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| As his blood spilled down
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| He prayed for his father to save him
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| One thief laughed and one thief wept
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| As he died beside them
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| While the sun withdrew its light
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| The sun withdrew its light
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| Hoping thus to hide him
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| Jesus screamed by hour nine
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| Why does God forsake him?
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| In his mouth a bitter gall
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| Vinegar to slake him
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| Finally he gave up his ghost
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| The mountains disassembled
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| And the veils were rent in twain
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| The veils were rent in twain
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| And the whole world trembled
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| Dark and sudden the nighttime fell
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| The mocking crowds were scattered
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| Jesus' sides were torn by spears
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| The two thieves, their bones were shattered
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| Still the blood and water flows
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| And still their mocking laughter
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| Thus befell the Son of Man
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| Befell the Son of Man
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| And many people after
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| Thus befell the Son of Man
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| Befell the Son of Man
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| And many people after |