Good Friday

Good Friday

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
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.

~by Christina Rossetti

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