Hands bearing blood,
The air scented sweet,
The hands of my master,
In secret we did meet.

These were his deeds,
Yes, noble and true!
Odd as it sounds,
I was there too.

Yet did my master,
(Although there were two),
Forget for a moment,
What he should not do.

Oh man of sorrow,
Stricken with grief,
Smitten and bruised,
For their unbelief.

Hands bearing money,
Thirty pieces were spent
You have been sold,
But for me, I am rent.

Within God's Word
Read about me,
Guess, if you like,
Who or what I might be. 

Author: Philip Kapusta