The Suffering God (after g A studdert Kennedy)

Spun through this wound of darkness

Faith is no empty sound

For the truth that pierces like a sword

Can bind the whole world round.

And the word that rends the silence

Where the heart’s blood finds its voice

Is torn from the breath of our deepest dream

Making its dreadful choice.

And He walks in all our stumbling,

Weaves music from our cries,

And love shall lift all into beauty

Where degradation lies.

For He stands in no aloofness

From our agonised despair.

Where man destroy the life of man

The Son of Man is there.

Through mud and muck and horror

And nightmare’s deepest fear;

In the shattering of our heart’s last hope

The Son of Man is here.

And we are not utterly alone

When all things crash to nought

For the nails, the spear, the crown of thorns –

He knew, He owned, He sought.

For faith is never just a word

Here in our hells he stands

Bearing the lash of our wildest grief

With nail scars in His hands.