Good Friday
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon--
I, only I.
Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.
~ Christina Rossetti, 1830-1894
3 Comments:
Thank you for that poem. Those are powerful words. Happy Easter to you.
Hi, Andrea. I'm sure you don't know me, but I was very drawn to this poem, because I wrote a similar one. I hope you won't think it arrogance to foist it on you like this, but I thought you might be interested.
Shamed by a Rock
Just passing by, and saw a rock.
It sat there, motionless, and still.
I stopped and stared. It seemed to mock
Me. Why? I could not tell, until
My thoughts collected, and observed
A Man before me standing there,
And saying, "Since you have not served
Me with your voice, will rock declare
My Glory yet, in spite of you?"
He struck me to my sinful heart,
But healing was His final view,
And so He said, and I depart:
To shame the rock; my place he will
Not have, though world end. I sing,
I sing, I sing for joy! With skill
I bring the honor due my King.
- Adrian C. Keister, July 12, 2002
Thank you, Adrian, for sharing this poem!
Post a Comment
<< Home