'Twas Good Friday?

It is Good Friday, they say.

   Not everyone thought it good.

      Surely, not mother Mary.

         Surely, not John the beloved,

            nor did the shadow dwellers.

              A black day so horrible

soldiers were driven to drink.

No day ever dawned was so black.

    A swirling vortex from Hell

       rose and fell upon the earth

         screaming, "Evil has prevailed!"

           and those on that hill of Hell,

             bent over in its fury, 

felt the breath of blowing evil.

This, they say, was Good Friday.

    And, indeed, as angels say,

       "It was good, let trumpets sound!"

        The Son stood strong on the cross,

           sending evil back in its den,

             and making a way for all

to be done with guilt and sin.

Good Friday was a great victory,

     a day that shouted, "God reigns!"

       but, at a terrible price.

         Jesus, the Son, died for me.

           'Twas I who should have been there.

              'Twas I who nailed the nails,

Still my Savior ransomed me.