I was in the crowd the day that Jesus died,
and as he hung upon the cross, his mother cried.
I saw the crown of thorns he wore, the stripe upon his back,
and as the water and the blood ran out, then the sky turned black.

My mind was filled with anger, my heart was filled with shame.
This man brought only healing; who could bring him pain?
Why does it seem the strong always victimize the weak?
Suddenly I found myself, standing to my feet.

And I cried:
Refrain
"Who nailed him there? This child of peace and mercy?"
"Who nailed him there? C