Pounding, Pounding, Pounding

 

Pounding, Pounding, Pounding

July 6, 2026

R. L. Withers

 

Pounding, pounding, pounding!

The mock scepter strikes a blow!

Blow upon blow, blow upon blow!

How deep will the Crown of Thorns go?

 

Crown Him, yes crown Him!

Weave the crown of thorns for His Head!

Beat it down, beat it down!

Strike harder, strike harder – beat it down!

 

Who shall strike the hardest?

Which soldier shall it be?

Let me, let me!

I can pound it with more force than you!

 

Let the blood run, let it run!

Who can make it run the more?

Embed the crown into His Head,

Shall anyone take it off again?

 

Enough for now

More is to come

Remove the royal robe,

Put the scepter in the fire

 

But leave the crown,

O leave the crown!

For a royal crucifixion will be done

And a king shall be enthroned!

 

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

Pound the nails through His flesh,

Deep into the tree drive them deep.

Who can drive them the deepest?

 

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

I cannot sleep tonight.

A good day’s work was done indeed

But the pounding now haunts me.

 

Deeper goes the pounding

Into my heart and soul.

What have I done today

That there is pounding so?

 

I cannot sleep

And so I run

To the room where we

Wove the crown of thorns

 

I cannot sleep

And so I run

Back to that Hill

Where we drove the nails

 

I cannot sleep and so I look,

Look for His Body.

Where did it go?

Who took it?

 

Three days!

Three nights!

The pounding will not stop!

Sleep flees from me!

 

What’s that you say?

You were guarding His tomb?

An earthquake, an angel,

You ran away, deserting your post?

 

Where am I going?

Why I’m going to find Him.

I must find Him –

The pounding must stop!

 

My commander, my leader,

O he was so right when he said,

“Surely this is the Son of God.”

He was right, and I was a beast.

 

O Jesus, O Jesus,

Have mercy on me.

Let me find You!

Find me! Find me!

 

Now dear reader

You may write the ending –

What of this Roman soldier?

What of you?