Dear Lord, I hold my hand to take Thy body broken once for me, Accept the sacrifice I make, My body, broken, Christ, for Thee. His was my body, born of me, Born of my bitter travail pain, And it lies broken on the field, Swept by the wind and the rain. Surely a Mother understands Thy thorn-crowned head, The mystery of Thy pierced hands—the Broken Bread. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DEATH OF HIS LADY by FRANCOIS VILLON THE ITALICS ARE RICHARD GIFFORD'S by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SOLOMON'S SONG by REGINA MIRIAM BLOCH SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIORGIONE: GEMMA'S SONG ON THE WAY by GORDON BOTTOMLEY TO THE MOON by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD MY DWELLING by FRANCES HALLEY BROCKETT |