Dear Lord, I hold my hand to take Thy body broken once for me, Accept the sacrifice I make, My body, broken, Christ, for Thee. His was my body, born of me, Born of my bitter travail pain, And it lies broken on the field, Swept by the wind and the rain. Surely a Mother understands Thy thorn-crowned head, The mystery of Thy pierced hands—the Broken Bread. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO JOSIAH ROYCE by BRENT DOW ALLINSON SONG: 6 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE AVENUE by GEORGES BOUTELLEAU THE SPINSTER by CLARISSA BUCKLIN IMITATION OF TIBULLUS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |