My memory wings its way, lest it be late— Beyond the old Damascus gate, Where lies the pathway Jesus walked, cross-bound,  Each step seems holy ground. My ears pressed close, I hear the rabble cry, And faintly…ah, the tortured sign! But graven deep, indelibly, is Calvary, Grim…gaunt…with crosses three. The sunlight which had swiftly filtered through Soft fleecy clouds astride the blue, Now disappeared; the earth is wrapped in fear, God’s wrathful judgment near! And in the darkness, while the billows rise, Lone, desolate the Savior cries: “My God, O why hast thou forsaken me,  My heart cries out for thee!” And overwhelmed, I kneel beneath that cross; Was that the price he paid for me? Such love I cannot fathom, Lord. Eternal thanks to thee! And from the travail of vast pain and woe, To depths my heart shall never know, A full redemption and a joyous hope is born; This is our Easter morn.