Days of Sorrow - a Rhymed Motif of Angelic Grief

The clouds grew thick as moistest moss;
The crowds, they gathered, at a loss.
The hosts above, their song they lost,
As Jesus laid upon the cross
To willingly accept the cost.

Despite their power, they were kept,
Commanded not to intercept.
This grief, they hardly could accept,
As evil loomed and overstepped.
The devastated angels wept.

The cherubim and seraphim
Sobbed bitterly because of Him:
Upon a hilltop, bleak and grim,
The Son of Man, nailed on a limb
At Calvary, so dark and dim.

Then, underneath His thorny crown,
Humility was dripping down.
It formed a fountain all around,
As Heaven's Lamb, in grace profound,
Surrendered there without a sound.

The multitudes of angels cried;
Their sorrows then were multiplied.
The Father turned His back and sighed,
As Heaven's Son was crucified.
The Firstborn hung His head and died.

Above the throng, a flash forlorn
Swept 'cross the sky, mankind to warn.
The Temple veil at last was torn,
Fulfilling words, prophetic, sworn,
As Heaven's forces joined to mourn.

This grievous day caused them to weep
To see the Son bear evil deep,
For mercy costly, ever steep.
The Father's covenant to keep,
This Lamb would rescue wayward sheep.

Thus they lamented three long days,
Till He broke through in brightest blaze,
Companions, cynics to amaze.
Angelic hosts, they raised their gaze,
Resumed their tune of highest praise.

The angels nevermore shall grieve,
For even now, they do perceive
Far more than we can yet conceive.
They're neither downcast nor naïve.
They know Who calls us to believe.