Treasure Island

William Strode

(1602 - 1644 / England)

Anthem For Good Fryday


See sinfull soul thy Saviours suffering see,
His Blessed hands and feet fix't fast to tree:
Observe what Rivulets of blood stream forth
His painful pierced side, each drop more worth
Than tongue of men and Angels can express:
Hast to him, cursed Caitiffe, and confess
All thy misdeeds, and sighing say, 'Twas I
That caus'd thee thus, my Lord, my Christ, to dye.


O let thy Death secure my soul from fears,
And I will wash thy wounds with brinish tears:
Grant me, sweet Jesu, from thy pretious store
One cleansing drop, with grace to sin no more.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: tree, death, fear, angel

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Anthem For Good Fryday by William Strode )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]