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...PSALM 58 (VERSION 2) by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE BEHIND THE LINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE FUGITIVE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON WINTER CHURNING IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY HOW CAME THE HOLLY BERRIES RED? by CHARLES W. E. CHAPIN JR. |