Imago mortis

Terminal christ

Imago mortis
I need to rest. I am tired.

Me:
Take this bitter wine away,
My Lord, Thy love is gall to me
Thy hand crushes my soul and makes me be
The man I must betray

Soon I will die
That's all consummate
My heart now is blind
So let be my fate

Afraid

All I see is fear and loss,
My Lord, my soul is sad till death
Why should I know how to choose my own path,
My Lord? Each way leads to the cross...

Soon I will die
Shall I still remain?
To save all mankind
Would I die again?

Afraid
I'm so afraid

Crucify me
Sacrifice me

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