\nWas ever grief like mine?\n
Mine own Apostle, who the bag did bear,
\nThough he had all I had, did not forebear
\nTo sell me also, and to put me there:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
For thirty pence he did my death devise,
\nWho at three hundred did the ointment prize,
\nNot half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Therefore my soul melts, and my heart\u2019s dear treasure
\nDrops blood (the only beads) my words to measure:
\nO let this cup pass, if it be thy pleasure:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
These drops being temper\u2019d with a sinner\u2019s tears,
\nA Balsam are for both the Hemispheres:
\nCuring all wounds but mine; all, but my fears,
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Yet my Disciples sleep: I cannot gain
\nOne hour of watching; but their drowsy brain
\nComforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Arise, arise, they come. Look how they run.
\nAlas! what haste they make to be undone!
\nHow with their lanterns do they seek the sun!
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,
\nWho am the way of truth, the true relief;
\nMost true to those, who are my greatest grief:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Judas, dost thou betray me with a kiss?
\nCanst thou find hell about my lips? and miss
\nOf life, just at the gates of life and bliss?
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands
\nOf faith, but fury: yet at their commands
\nI suffer binding, who have loos\u2019d their bands:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
All my Disciples fly; fear puts a bar
\nBetwixt my friends and me. They leave the star
\nThat brought the wise men of the East from far.
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Then from one ruler to another bound
\nThey lead me; urging, that it was not sound
\nWhat I taught: Comments would the text confound.
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
The Priest and rulers all false witness seek
\n\u2018Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek
\nAnd ready Paschal Lamb of this great week:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Then they accuse me of great blasphemy,
\nThat I did thrust into the Deity,
\nWho never thought that any robbery:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Some said, that I the Temple to the floor
\nIn three days raz\u2019d, and raised as before.
\nWhy, he that built the world can do much more:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Then they condemn me all with that same breath,
\nWhich I do give them daily, unto death.
\nThus Adam my first breathing rendereth:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
They bind, and lead me unto Herod: he
\nSends me to Pilate. This makes them agree;
\nBut yet their friendship is my enmity:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Herod and all his bands do set me light,
\nWho teach all hands to war, fingers to fight,
\nAnd only am the Lord of hosts and might:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Herod in judgement sits while I do stand;
\nExamines me with a censorious hand:
\nI him obey, who all things else command:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
The Jews accuse me with despitefulness;
\nAnd vying malice with my gentleness,
\nPick quarrels with their only happiness:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
I answer nothing, but with patience prove
\nIf stony hearts will melt with gentle love.
\nBut who does hawk at eagles with a dove?
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
My silence rather doth augment their cry;
\nMy dove doth back into my bosom fly;
\nBecause the raging waters still are high:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Hark how they cry aloud still, \u2018Crucify:
\nIt is not fit he live a day, \u2018 they cry,
\nWho cannot live less than eternally:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Pilate a stranger holdeth off; but they,
\nMine own dear people, cry, \u2018Away, away, \u2018
\nWith noises confused frighting the day:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Yet still they shout, and cry, and stop their ears,
\nPutting my life among their sins and fears,
\nAnd therefore wish my blood on them and theirs:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
See how spite cankers things. These words aright
\nUsed, and wished, are the whole world\u2019s light:
\nBut honey is their gall, brightness their night:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
They choose a murderer, and all agree
\nIn him to do themselves a courtesy:
\nFor it was their own cause who killed me:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
And a seditious murderer he was:
\nBut I the Prince of peace; peace that doth pass
\nAll understanding, more than heav\u2019n doth glass:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Why, Caesar is their only King, not I:
\nHe clave the stony rock, when they were dry;
\nBut surely not their hearts, as I well try:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Ah! how they scourge me! yet my tenderness
\nDoubles each lash: and yet their bitterness
\nWinds up my grief to a mysteriousness.
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
They buffet me, and box me as they list,
\nWho grasp the earth and heaven with my fist,
\nAnd never yet, whom I would punish, miss\u2019d:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Behold, they spit on me in scornful wise,
\nWho by my spittle gave the blind man eyes,
\nLeaving his blindness to mine enemies:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
My face they cover, though it be divine.
\nAs Moses\u2019 face was veiled, so is mine,
\nLest on their double-dark souls either shine:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Servants and abjects flout me; they are witty:
\n\u2018Now prophesy who strikes thee, \u2018 is their ditty.
\nSo they in me deny themselves all pity:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
And now I am deliver\u2019d unto death,
\nWhich each one calls for so with utmost breath,
\nThat he before me well nigh suffereth:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept
\nWhen all my tears were blood, the while you slept:
\nYour tears for your own fortunes should be kept:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
The soldiers lead me to the common hall;
\nThere they deride me, they abuse me all:
\nYet for twelve heavn\u2019ly legions I could call:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Then with a scarlet robe they me array;
\nWhich shows my blood to be the only way.
\nAnd cordial left to repair man\u2019s decay:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear:
\nFor these are all the grapes SIon doth bear,
\nThough I my vine planted and watred there:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
So sits the earth\u2019s great curse in Adam\u2019s fall
\nUpon my head: so I remove it all
\nFrom th\u2019 earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Then with the reed they gave to me before,
\nThey strike my head, the rock from whence all store
\nOf heavn\u2019ly blessings issue evermore:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
They bow their knees to me, and cry, \u2018Hail king\u2019:
\nWhat ever scoffs or scornfulness can bring,
\nI am the floor, the sink, where they it fling:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Yet since man\u2019s sceptres are as frail as reeds,
\nAnd thorny all their crowns, bloody their weeds;
\nI, who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
The soldiers also spit upon that face,
\nWhich Angels did desire to have the grace,
\nAnd Prophets once to see, but found no place:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout,
\nWho \u2018Crucify him, \u2018 cry with one strong shout.
\nGod holds his peace at man, and man cries out.
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
They lead me in once more, and putting then
\nMine own clothes on, they lead me out again.
\nWhom devils fly, thus is he toss\u2019d of men:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
And now weary of sport, glad to engross
\nAll spite in one, counting my life their loss,
\nThey carry me to my most bitter cross:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
My cross I bear my self, until I faint:
\nThen Simon bears it for me by constraint,
\nThe decreed burden of each mortal Saint:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
O all ye who pass by, behold and see;
\nMan stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree;
\nThe tree of life to all, but only me:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Lo, here I hang, charg\u2019d with a world of sin,
\nThe greater world o\u2019 th\u2019 two; for that came in
\nBy words, but this by sorrow I must win:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Such sorrow, as if sinful man could feel,
\nOr feel his part, he would not cease to kneel,
\nTill all were melted, though he were all steel:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
But, O my God, my God! why leav\u2019st thou me,
\nThe son, in whom thou dost delight to be?
\nMy God, my God \u2013
\nNever was grief like mine.<\/p>\n
Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound;
\nSharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound;
\nReproaches, which are free, while I am bound.
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Now heal thy self, Physician; now come down.
\nAlas! I did so, when I left my crown
\nAnd father\u2019s smile for you, to feel his frown:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
In healing not my self, there doth consist
\nAll that salvation, which ye now resist;
\nYour safety in my sickness doth subsist:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Betwixt two thieves I spend my utmost breath,
\nAs he that for some robbery suffereth.
\nAlas! what have I stolen from you? death:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
A king my title is, prefixt on high;
\nYet by my subjects am condemn\u2019d to die
\nA servile death in servile company;
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
They gave me vinegar mingled with gall,
\nBut more with malice: yet, when they did call,
\nWith Manna, Angels\u2019 food, I fed them all:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
They part my garments, and by lot dispose
\nMy coat, the type of love, which once cur\u2019d those
\nWho sought for help, never malicious foes:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
Nay, after death their spite shall further go;
\nFor they will pierce my side, I full well know;
\nThat as sin came, so Sacraments might flow:
\nWas ever grief like mine?<\/p>\n
But now I die; now all is finished.
\nMy woe, man\u2019s weal: and now I bow my head.
\nOnly let others say, when I am dead,
\nNever was grief like mine.<\/p><\/div>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
For a Good Friday meditation, read The Sacrifice by George Herbert after the jump.\u00a0 It presents the Crucifixion from the point of view of Christ Himself.\u00a0 A repeated pattern in the stanzas is a contrast between how we treat Him and how He treats us.\u00a0 It\u2019s on the long side, but you\u2019ll be glad you […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1281,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,21,28],"tags":[3106,910,936],"class_list":["post-18587","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-christ","category-holidays","category-literature","tag-christs-crucifixion","tag-george-herbert","tag-good-friday"],"yoast_head":"\n
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