From ' The Holy Roode'

To thee, my God, my Lord, my Jesus Christ,
Will I ascribe all glory, pow'r and grace ;
Thee will I serve, say pagans what they list,
And with the arms of love thee still embrace ;
That for my love in love dost deigne to die
This death of shame, my life to glorifie.

None other booke but thy unclasped side,
Wherein 's contain*cl all skills angelical;
None other lesson but ' Christ crucified,'
Will I ere learn e : for that is all in all;
Wherein selfe curiositie may find
Matter to please the most displeased mind.

Here, by our Master's nakedness, we learne
What weeds to weare: by his thorn-crowned head
How to aclorne us : and we may discerne
By his most bitter gall how to be fed :
How to revenge, by praying for his foes;
And lying on his crosse, how to repose.

O work without example ! and O grace
Without deserving ! Love, O largest love,
Surmounting measure, that for wormes so base,
And basely bad, such hels of woes doth prove !
Had we been friends what would he then have done,
That, being his foes, no woes for us doth shun ?

Saturday, October 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: religion
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