Her Prayer
She kneels with haggard eyes and hair
Unto the Christ upon the Cross:
Her gown is torn; her feet are bare.
What is this thing she begs of him,
The gentle Christ upon the Cross?
Her hands are clasped; her face is dim.
Is it forgiveness for her sin,
She asks of Christ upon the Cross?
And mercy for the soul within?
With anguished face, so sad and sweet,
She kneels to Christ upon the Cross:
Her arms embrace his nail-pierced feet.
Her tears run slowly down her face,
O piteous Christ upon the Cross!
And through her tears she sighs and says:
‘The thing that I would crave of Thee,
O Christ upon the cruel Cross,
Is not a thing to comfort me.
’Thou, who hast taught us to forgive,
O tender Christ upon the Cross,
Help Thou my love for him to live.
‘Oh, let the love that was my fall,
O loving Christ upon the Cross,
Still to my life be all in all.
’With love for him who loves no more,
O patient Christ upon the Cross,
Make Thou my punishment full sore.’
She kneels with haggard eyes and hair
Unto the Christ upon the Cross:
Her gown is torn; her feet are bare.
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