Tornou-se Pobre
E marcaram as costas do mestre com a força do chicote
E lhe davam tapas na face produzindo-lhe a dor
E tiraram a roupa do mestre na presença de muitos
E cuspiam, zombavam e riam do mestre Jesus
E a coroa de espinhos marcava sua fronte ferida
Desprezado, humilhado, o mestre não reclamou
E tomou sua cruz, foi em frente por causa das almas
Não olhou pra si mesmo, mas negou-se pelo pecador
Suou gotas de sangue, pelos meus pecados
Pela queda do sangue de Cristo, eu fui perdoado
Suou gotas de sangue pelos meus pecados
Pela queda do sangue de Cristo, eu fui perdoado eu fui
Tornou-se pobre, pra que eu fosse rico
Tornou-se feio, pra que fosse bonito
Tornou-se servo, pra que eu fosse príncipe
E morreu, pra que eu pudesse viver
Became Poor
They marked the master's back with the force of the whip
And slapped his face causing him pain
They took the master's clothes off in front of many
And spat, mocked, and laughed at Master Jesus
The crown of thorns marked his wounded forehead
Despised, humiliated, the master did not complain
And took his cross, went on for the sake of souls
He didn't look at himself, but denied himself for the sinner
Sweat drops of blood, for my sins
By the shedding of Christ's blood, I was forgiven
Sweat drops of blood for my sins
By the shedding of Christ's blood, I was forgiven, I was
Became poor, so that I could be rich
Became ugly, so that I could be beautiful
Became a servant, so that I could be a prince
And died, so that I could live
Escrita por: Carlos A. Moysés