I found the words to one of my favorite poems online today. It is by G. Stuttart Kennedy and it was written around World War II, I believe. I also believe the original title was "When Jesus Came to Birmingham" referring to the Birmingham in England not Alabama.
When Jesus Came to our Town
When Jesus came to Golgotha
They hung Him on a tree.
They drove great nails through hands and feet
And made a Calvary.
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns,
Red were His wounds and deep.
For those were crude and cruel days
And human flesh was cheap.
But when Jesus came to our town
They only passed Him by.
They never hurt a hair of Him
They only let Him die.
For men had grown more tender.
They wouldn’t cause Him pain.
They just passed on down the street
And left Him in the rain.
Still Jesus prayed, “Forgive them,
They know not what they do.”
And still it rained the winter rain
That soaked Him through and through.
The crowd went by and left Him there
Without a soul to see.
And Jesus knelt against the wall
And sighed for Calvary.
G. Stuttart Kennedy