The grieving mother stands beside A blood-stained cross of wood Where hangs her one and only son, So innocent and good, O see the tears that touch her cheek, Each one a shining jewel, Witness to to the cost of sin, So heavy, dark and cruel. Her son was given as a gift to heal this world of woe, And she was warned of sorrow's sword so many years ago. O see the tears that touch her cheek, Each one a shining jewel, Witness to to the cost of sin, So heavy, dark and cruel. She feels the blade...