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Good Friday

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.

Christian Poetry by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Public Domain