The Eleventh Station

They have dug my hands and feet.  Ps. 21:17

Prone upon the cross, the hammers above –
 This carpenter would no longer transgress
God’s will – nor the people with his words stress.
 Scowling faces glared – his life to reprove.
But how could they innocence and faith move?
 Into his hands, with hatred, nails must press:
Now this mock "king" would know who he’d impress!
 Sharp nails were pounded, pounded, into Love.

How much of our effort and work in time
 Serves God?  Without prayer, in our vocations,
We become jackals to others in crime,
 Meritless for our heavenly stations.

Overcoming hatred, Christ prayed anew:
 “Father, forgive them – they know not what they do.”