We meant only to torture, just to strip Away all signs this rebel was a man Cudgels made his hooded face a joke; whip Made pulp from flesh and muscle.  We began To warm up to our work.  We spat, we ran Through every taunt and curse that we could call   And then pronounced his fate.  The usual plan For such as him.  Wood, nails, the hammer fall Yet as we raised him up, we heard his call To heaven, to excuse what we had done We meant only to torture, just to haul Him upright to a long death in the sun   We meant to torture; he meant to forgive His life he poured out so that we might live Copyright © 2003 Jeremy Parsons