The Sacrifice
Oh all ye, who passe by, whose eyes and minde
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde;
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde;
to me, who took eyes that I might you finde:
Was ever grief like mine?
The Princes of my people make a head
Against their Maker; they do wish me dead,
Who cannot wish, except I give them bread:
Was ever grief like Mine?
Without me each one, who doth now me brave,
Had to this day been an Egyptian slave.
They use that power against me, which I gave:
Was ever grief like mine?
Mine own Apostle, who the bag did beare,
Though he had all I had, did not forbeare
to see me also, and to put me there:
Was ever grief like mine?
For thirtie pence he did my death devise,
Who at three hundred did the ointment prize,
Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice:
Was ever grief like mine?
Therefore my soul melts, and my heart's deare treasure
Drops bloud (the only beads) my words to measure:
O let this cup passe, if it be thy pleasure:
Was ever grief like mine?
These drops being temper'd with a sinner's tears,
A balsome are for both the Hemispheres,
Curing all wounds but mine; all, but my fears.
Was ever grief like mine?
Yet my disciples sleep: I cannot gain
One houre of watching; but their drowsie brain
Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain:
Was ever grief like mine?
Arise, arise; they come. Look how they runne!
Alas! what haste they make to be undone!
How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne!
Was ever grief like mine?
With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,
Who am the way of truth, the true relief,
Most true to those who are my greatest grief:
Was ever grief like mine?
Judas, dost thou betray me with a kisse?
Canst thou finde hell about my lips? and misse
Of life, just at the gates of life and blisse?
Was ever grief like mine?
All my disciples flie; fear puts a barre
Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the starre,
That brought the wise men of the East from farre:
Was ever grief like mine?
Thea from one ruler to another bound
They leade me: urging, that it was not found
What I taught: Comments would the text confound.
Was ever grief like mine?
The priests and rulers all false witnesse seek
'Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek
And readie Paschal Lambe of this great week:
Was ever grief like mine?
Then they accuse me of great blasphemie,
That I did thrust into the Deitie,
Who never thought that any robberie:
Was ever grief like mine?
Some said that I the Temple to the floore
In three days raze'd, and raised as before.
Why, he that built the world can do much more:
Was ever grief like mine?
Then they condemne me all with that same breath,
Which I do give them daily, unto death.
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:
Was ever grief like mine?
They binde, and leade me unto Herod: he
Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree;
But yet their friendship is my enmitie.
Was ever grief like mine?
Herod and all his bands do set me light,
Who teach all hands to warre, fingers to fight,
And only am the Lord of hosts and might.
Was ever grief like mine?
Herod in judgment sits, while I do stand;
Examines me with a censorious hand;
I him obey, who all things else command:
Was ever grief like mine?
Since my Kindle just ran out of juice, I will continue this very long poem tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment