I bore with thee, long, weary days and nights, Through many pangs of heart, through many tears; I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights, For three and thirty years. Who else had dared for thee what I have dared? I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above; I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared: Give thou Me love for love. For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth, For thee I trembled in the nightly frost: Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth; Why wilt thou still be lost? I bore thee on My shoulders, and rejoiced: Men only marked upon My shoulders borne The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced, Or wagged their heads in scorn. Thee did nails grave upon My hands; thy name Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes. I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame: I, God, Priest, Sacrifice. A thief upon My right hand and My left; Six hours alone, athirst, in misery: At length, in death, one smote My heart, and cleft A hiding place for thee. Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep; So did I win a kingdom--share My crown; A harvest--come and reap. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SUNDAY NIGHT by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE CLOTE (WATER-LILY) by WILLIAM BARNES AURORA by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) HUNTING HORNS by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE |