Four Crosses

By Jo M. Shaw

They say three crosses on the hill

Stood dark in silhouette

Between the evenings at the hour

Our Lord his passion met.

The saddest tears are spilled unseen;

Only to God are known.

Near to his side another soul

Was crucified, alone.

There were four crosses on the hill;

Four borne to Calvary.

All crosses are not made of wood;

Mary’s they could not see.