Christ's Words On The Cross: My God, My God.

Christ, when He hung the dreadful cross upon,
Had, as it were, a dereliction
In this regard, in those great terrors He
Had no one beam from God's sweet majesty.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

To Dianeme

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Another. (Sin.)

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Spenke.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To Julia, In Her Dawn, Or Daybreak.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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His Saviour's Words Going To The Cross.

Have, have ye no regard, all ye
Who pass this way, to pity Me,
Who am a man of misery!

A man both bruis'd, and broke, and one
Who suffers not here for Mine own,
But for My friends' transgression!

Ah! Sion's daughters, do not fear
The cross, the cords, the nails, the spear,
The myrrh, the gall, the vinegar;

For Christ, your loving Saviour, hath
Drunk up the wine of God's fierce wrath;
Only there's left a little froth,

Less for to taste than for to show
What bitter cups had been your due,
Had He not drank them up for you.

Robert Herrick

Christ's Suffering.

Justly our dearest Saviour may abhor us,
Who hath more suffered by us far, than for us.

Robert Herrick

His Anthem To Christ On The Cross.

    When I behold Thee, almost slain,
    With one and all parts full of pain:
    When I Thy gentle heart do see
    Pierced through and dropping blood for me,
    I'll call, and cry out, thanks to Thee.

    Vers. But yet it wounds my soul to think
    That for my sin Thou, Thou must drink,
    Even Thou alone, the bitter cup
    Of fury and of vengeance up.

    Chor. Lord, I'll not see Thee to drink all
    The vinegar, the myrrh, the gall:

Vers. Chor. But I will sip a little wine;
        Which done, Lord, say: The rest is Mine.

Robert Herrick

Good Friday: Rex Tragicus; Or, Christ Going To His Cross.

Put off Thy robe of purple, then go on
To the sad place of execution:
Thine hour is come, and the tormentor stands
Ready to pierce Thy tender feet and hands.
Long before this, the base, the dull, the rude,
Th' inconstant and unpurged multitude
Yawn for Thy coming; some ere this time cry,
How He defers, how loath He is to die!
Amongst this scum, the soldier with his spear
And that sour fellow with his vinegar,
His sponge, and stick, do ask why Thou dost stay;
So do the scurf and bran too. Go Thy way,
Thy way, Thou guiltless man, and satisfy
By Thine approach each their beholding eye.
Not as a thief shalt Thou ascend the mount,
But like a person of some high account;
The Cross shall be Thy stage, and Thou shalt there
The spacious field have for Thy theatre....

Robert Herrick

His Words To Christ Going To The Cross.

When Thou wast taken, Lord, I oft have read,
All Thy disciples Thee forsook and fled.
Let their example not a pattern be
For me to fly, but now to follow Thee.

Robert Herrick

The Crucifixion

Sunlight upon Judha's hills!
And on the waves of Galilee;
On Jordan's stream, and on the rills
That feed the dead and sleeping sea!
Most freshly from the green wood springs
The light breeze on its scented wings;
And gayly quiver in the sun
The cedar tops of Lebanon!

A few more hours, a change hath come!
The sky is dark without a cloud!
The shouts of wrath and joy are dumb,
And proud knees unto earth are bowed.
A change is on the hill of Death,
The helmed watchers pant for breath,
And turn with wild and maniac eyes
From the dark scene of sacrifice!

That Sacrifice! the death of Him,
The Christ of God, the holy One!
Well may the conscious Heaven grow dim,
And blacken the beholding, Sun.
The wonted light hath fled away,
Night s...

John Greenleaf Whittier