There was a man born from an immaculate womb
  who advocated for the poor, with the sick he would loom.

Through parables he philosophized of his impending doom;
  was crucified on a cross and buried in a tomb.

The shroud of the temple was torn with a boom,
  and in a seat on his right the Father held room.

I am thankful for the lilies which in His honor now bloom,
  and for the Spirit bestowed, a timeless heirloom.