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THE SACRIFICE by George Herbert

This Cross Tree here by Robert Herrick

Calvary Love by Amy Carmichael


For Good Friday

                                             Christina Rossetti

 

 

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.

  +   +   +

 

In the bitter cold of winter the trees stand bare and seem to be dead. But in the spring, they burst forth into leaf and flower, and the first fruits begin to appear. So it was with the Master's death and resurrection, and so it is with all who faithfully bear the burden of suffering and death.

 Though they may seem crushed and dead, they will yet bear beautiful flowers and glorious fruits of eternal life. 

                                                -Sadhu Sundar Singh