Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm
Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,
That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm,
I do not feel the thorns so much to-day.
Because I never knew your care to tire,
Your hand to weary guiding me aright,
Because you walk before and crush the brier,
It does not pierce my feet so much to-night.
Because so often you have hearkened to
My selfish prayers, I ask but one thing now,
That these harsh hands of mine add not unto
The crown of thorns upon your bleeding brow.
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Comments
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5/10
It is an ok piece, the vernacular is lovely but just the overall sound of it, just throws off a bit I think. I think more should have been put into this piece for it to get the message clearer (tho I do know the message I just feel it could have been better).
A nice piece here.
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