Sonnet XCI. Passion-week 1845
Again the solemn season--and again
That bleeding Brow, those wounded Hands and Feet--
Again that piercèd Side my vision meet;
Afresh that holy Form is bowed with pain.
O Thou, the all--sufficing Victim, slain
For man's transgression; by Thy mercy sweet,
From God's right hand of power, Thy glory--seat,
To look upon Thy sorrowing people deign.
Unworthy, Lord, unworthy of Thy name,
Behold Thy sinful Church; by hatred rent,
In the vain world, and not in Thee, content:
Cast us not off, O Lord! in deepest shame,
On bended knees, we utter our lament,
Up to Thy throne in daily sighing sent.
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