They saw you as the local builder's son, and therefore out of house of prayer and town they chased you, by your prophecy enraged, into the darkness, to the mountain edge. They did not see in you the nation's hope, or see you take and drink the bitter cup. They did not recognize the love divine in you, who bore away our guilt and sin. They did not see your hand in anguish curled, your hand that heals, the hand that made the world. They failed to see, when darkness came at noon, that on the cross your saving work was done. The time will come with everyone shall see: your grace is like a stream that fills the sea. You give us of your covenant the sign, and in your wounds you heal all human pain.