Good Friday

Lo, there He hangs -

Ashened figure pinioned against the wood.

God grant that I might love Him

Even as I should.

 

I draw a little closer

To feel His love divine,

And Hear Him gently whisper,

“Ah, precious child of mine -

If now I should embrace you,

My hands would stain you red,

An if I leaned to whisper,

My thorns would pierce your head.” 

‘Twas there I learned in sorrow

That love demands a price;

‘Twas then I learned that suffering

is but the kiss of Christ.

-- The Kiss of Christ by a Trappist monk