Good Friday

Good Friday

by Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

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.

 

Christ of St. John of the Cross by Salvatore Dali, 1951

Who Overcame Evil by Good

by Mary Whitcomb Hess

after a homily by Saint Amphilochius in the 4th Century

They stretch Him
On a Cross to die ---

Our Lord Who first

Stretched out the sky

Whose countenance

The cherubim

Dare not gaze on …

They spat on Him

And gave Him gall

To drink

Though He

Brings us wells

Of eternity.

He prays for them

“Father, forgive…”

For He was born

That all might live.

Round the sealed tomb

Of Him they’ve slain

They set a guard

In vain, in vain

Round Him

Creation can’t contain

Who dies for us

To rise again.

~*~*~

Have a blessed Good Friday, dear friends.

May I ask, "Is the Cross a Way of Life for You?"

Joy and peace,
Virginia Knowles