Oh, what did thirty pieces buy?
They bought the cry of “Crucify”,
The profit from a kiss.
They bought a trial that mocked its name.
They bought each false and fear-filled claim
And Pilate’s cowardice.
Those bits of silver bought the nails,
The cross, the crown, the human wails,
The vinegar and gall.
They bought release for one who killed
So blood untainted might be spilled …
They bought it all.
Those little coins bought death for two,
Our Lord and him who was untrue.
They were a princely price.
They bought for a repenting thief
Whose dying gasp was of belief,
A life in paradise.
They bought the veil that darkened day.
They bought the empty tomb’s dismay
And Christianity.
Oh, what are thirty pieces worth?
The shame and glory of the earth
For all eternity.
An Irish Toast