Surely he has borne our griefs
My precious Son, my only Son,
My broken heart keeps beating still.
and carried our sorrows;
My tears like crystal droplets stream,
As crimson rivers flow downhill.
yet we esteemed him stricken,
They do not know ... how could they know?
They crown with thorns their rightful King.
smitten by God, and afflicted.
The skies turn a smothering, fetid black
as the sparrows lose the will to sing.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
The angry lash, nails driven home, such horror
I've not known till now.
he was bruised for our iniquities;
And as the nails pulled out again,
his body struck the blood-soaked ground.
Upon him was the chastisement that made us whole,
I nearly fainted dead away ... but then,
a whisper from Eternity ...
and by his stripes we are healed.
"It is finished ... It is finished ... It is finished."
His words returned and strengthened me.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
Thy precious body, my true delight,
had not been vanquished in the fight.
we have turned every one to his own way;
And neither would I die. My face, that moment
dry as I turned toward the light.
and the Lord has laid on him
They laid him down, to rise again
as Shepherd of His sheep.
the iniquity of us all.
His Body and Blood, the bridal price,
for bonds of love to keep.
Heidi Hess Saxton
Corpus Christi 2008
Thanks, Sarah, for posting your interview at "Another Day of Catholic Pondering"!
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