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Good Friday Poem
From “The eternal Mercy”
O Christ who holds the open gate,
O Christ who drives the furrow straight,
O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter
Of holy white birds flying after,
Lo, all my heart’s field crimson and torn,
And Thou wilt bring the young green corn
The younger inexperienced corn divinely springing,
The young inexperienced corn without end singing;
And when the subject is contemporary and reasonable
Thy blessèd toes shall glitter there,
And we will stroll the weeded subject,
And tell the golden harvest’s yield,
The corn that makes the holy bread
in which the soul of man is fed,
The holy bread, the food unpriced,
Thy everlasting mercy, Christ.
From “The Dream of the Rood”
The earliest Christian poem in English
The Rood (cross of Christ) speaks:
“It was long past – I nonetheless remember it –
That I used to be decrease on the copse’s finish,
Moved from my root. Strong enemies there took me,
advised me to preserve aloft their criminals,
Made me a spectacle. Guys carried me
Upon their shoulders, set me on a hill,
a bunch of enemies there mounted me.
“after which I saw the Lord of all mankind
Hasten with keen zeal that He could mount
Upon me. I durst now not against God’s word
Bend down or damage, once I noticed tremble all
the skin of the earth. Even though I would
Have struck down all the foes, yet stood I speedy.
“Then the younger hero (who was once God almighty)
bought ready, resolute and robust in coronary heart.
He climbed onto the lofty gallows-tree,
daring within the sight of many gazing men,
When He meant to redeem mankind.
I trembled because the warrior embraced me.
However still I dared not bend right down to the earth,
Fall to the bottom. Upright I had to stand.
“A rood I was once raised up; and that i held high
The noble King, the Lord of heaven above.
I dared now not slump. They pierced me with dark nails;
The scars can still be naturally obvious on me,
The open wounds of malice. But might I
not damage them. They reviled us both together.
I was made moist everywhere with the blood
Which poured out from his aspect, after He had
despatched forth His spirit. And that i underwent
Full many a dire experience on that hill.
I noticed the God of hosts stretched grimly out.
Darkness covered the Ruler’s corpse with clouds
His shining magnificence; shadows passed throughout,
Black in the darkness. All construction wept,
Bewailed the King’s death; Christ used to be on the go….
“Now you can also realize, expensive warrior,
That i have suffered deeds of depraved men
And grievous sorrows. Now the time has come
That some distance and large in the world guys honor me,
And all this fine and wonderful construction,
And to this beacon offers prayers. On me
The Son of God once suffered; hence now
I tower mighty beneath the heavens,
and that i may just heal all those in awe of me.
After I became the cruelest of tortures,
Most hateful to all nations, until the time
I opened the correct culture for guys.”
Just right Friday
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That i will stand, O Christ, underneath Thy move,
To number drop via drop Thy blood’s sluggish loss,
And yet now not weep?
Not so those females adored
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
now not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
no longer so the thief was moved;
not so the sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of nice darkness at extensive midday –
I, most effective I.
But give not o’er,
however seek Thy sheep, genuine Shepherd of the flock;
greater than Moses, turn and look yet again
And smite a rock.