| 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?
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| Not so those women loved |
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| Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee; | |
| Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly; | |
Not so the thief was moved;
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| 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.
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| 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.
Good Friday
by Christina Rossetti | |
