Good Friday, The Veneration
If desired, a wooden cross may now be brought into
the church and placed in the sight of the people.
He lies prostrate before
the altar, his face on the floor,
our rended priest.
He is so low on our behalf
a centurion could trample
footprints on his back.
The liturgy of violence
is the work of the people.
O Gabbatha, O Golgotha,
a mob feeling comes
with our clamor.
Away with him! We have
no king but the emperor.
