What bruises do I see! What hideous stripes are those! Could any cruel be Enough, to give such blows? Look, how they bind his arms And vex his soul with scorns, Upon his hair They make him wear A crown of piercing thorns. Through hands and feet Sharp nails they beat: And now the cross they rear: Many look on; But only John Stands by to sigh, Mary to shed a tear. Why did he shake for cold? Why did he glow for heat? Dissolve that frost he could, He could call back that sweat. Those bruises, stripes, bonds, taunts, Those thorns, which thou didst see, Those nails, that cross, His own life's loss, Why, O why suffered he? 'Twas for thy sake. Thou, thou didst make Him all those torments bear: If then his love Do thy soul move, Sigh out a groan, weep down a melting tear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HIS RETURN TO LONDON by ROBERT HERRICK THE OUTGOING OF SABBATH by ALTER ABELSON BY WAY OF EXPLANATION by VIRGINIA A. ALLIN HOPE PREFERRED by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE FOREST PINE by LAURENCE BINYON MONODY TO THE SOUND OF ZITHERS by KAY BOYLE EPISTLE FROM ONE ABSENT EDITOR TO ANOTHER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |