GOOD FRIDAY BECAUSE, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm Bends back the brier that edges life's long way That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm, I do not feel the thorns so much to-day. Because I never knew your care to tire, Your hand to weary guiding me aright, Because you walk before and crush the brier, It does not pierce my feet so much to-night. Because so often you have hearkened to My selfish prayers, I ask but one thing now, That these harsh hands of mine add not unto The crown of thorns upon your bleeding brow | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SMALLISH SON by HAYDEN CARRUTH WHEN I WROTE A LITTLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH RESURRECTION UPDATE by JAMES GALVIN TO SEE THE STARS IN DAYLIGHT by JAMES GALVIN BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON IN THE JEWISH SYNAGOGUE AT NEWPORT by EMMA LAZARUS STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 2. ILLINOIS by CLARENCE MAJOR |