Good Friday, by Christina RossettiAm 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 lovedWho with exceeding grief lamented Thee;Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;Not so the thief was moved;Not so the Sun and MoonWhich 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 moreAnd smite a rock.
G is for Good Friday
Yesterday, Christians around the world fasted and prayed and pondered the passion of the Lord on Good Friday. This dark day led to the brightest victory the world has ever known, as Jesus rose from the dead, conquering sin and the grave.
Ever since that day, poets have penned words of faith, focused on this monumental milestone of eternity.
British Romantic poet Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) may be best remembered for her classic Christmas verse, titled “In the Bleak Midwinter,” and her lengthier poem, “Goblin Market.” Her brother was artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who created her pensive portrait (see photo).
Rossetti, one of my more favorite wordsmiths of all time, wrote these lines about the day on which the Savior died. This poem, also known as “Beneath Thy Cross,” offers deep devotion, mixes with grief and grace.
Last year’s A to Z post: Grainy Goodness
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Christina Rossetti, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Public Domain Photo
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Favorite Classic Poems
Adapted from ClipArt ETC