Oh, this is the midnight hour of victory.
Come and see, a mournful garden where a sinless man is grieved.
And there a King, among the peasants and the carpenters and theives.
His glory seen, not in crowns but gentle words and healing deeds.
Sing Sing Sing!
Sing the song of the redeemed.
And bring bring bring,
heavy hearts and broken hands before our King! Oh...
calvary’s mournful mountain climb with me
and we shall see, a sight that sets us free.
And see, in chains, shown the way departs Gethsemane.
A friend will lead, to such an evil place, he can’t forgive his deeds.
Arraigned in peace, not a word of ill this judgement hall shall see.
Hope released, in silent fear and trembling learning of his fate.
Sing Sing Sing!
A joyous song of mournful things.
For here our King
made a villain, and a lie, hung from a tree.
Oh calvary’s mournful mountain climb with me,
and we shall see a sight that sets us free.
To see you as a man, loving eyes and calloused hands.
Your words have opened eyes. Brought riches from insolvent lives.
Dealt a traitors fate wit Roman nails and to hold your weight.
And suffering as you die, still pleading for afflicter’s lives.
Morning falls, take the path to where our savior laid.
One last look, to view the fate of all who’d follow in his wake.
There we see what only prophets can describe.
An empty cave, a man in white proclaiming Jesus is alive!
Sing Sing Sing!
This is the story of a King.
And speak these things.
Let resound proclaiming death has lost its sting.
Oh calvary’s mournful mountain climb with me,
and we shall see an empty tree.
Oh calvary’s mournful mountain climb with me,
and we shall see a sight that sets us free.
