"Good Friday" by Christina Rossetti

Good Friday

by Christina Rossetti

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.