Good Friday Poems

Any additional suggestions welcome. 

The Valley of Vision also contains meditations on the cross. 

Redemption, by George Herbert

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord,
   Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,
   And make a suit unto Him, to afford
A new small-rented lease, and cancel th' old.
In heaven at His manor I Him sought:
   They told me there, that He was lately gone
   About some land, which He had dearly bought
Long since on Earth, to take possession.
I straight returned, and knowing His great birth,
   Sought Him accordingly in great resorts—
   In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts:
At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth
   Of thieves and murderers; there I Him espied,
   Who straight, "Your suit is granted," said, and died.

The Agony, by George Herbert

THE AGONY

Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathom'd the depths of seas, of states, and kings,
Walk'd with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains
But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that sound them; Sin and Love.

Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man, so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
His skin, his garments, bloody be.
Sin is that Press and Vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through every vein.

Who knows not Love, let him assay,
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
If ever he did taste the like.
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine.

John Donne, Holy Sonnet XI

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,

Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,

For I have sinned, and sinned,

and only he Who could do no iniquity hath died:

But by my death can not be satisfied

My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:

They killed once an inglorious man,

but I Crucify him daily, being now glorified.

Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:

Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.

And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire

But to supplant, and with gainful intent:

God clothed himself in vile man's flesh,

that so He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

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.