Oh, wherefore were we torn,
Reluctant, from the bough,
To be a mark of scorn
Upon this bleeding Brow?
O fruit of the Forbidden Tree,
Behold the ripened penalty!
And they platted a crown of thorns, and put it about His head.
Mark xv, 17.
![]() 1845-1909, 0 views Categories: Spirituality View OptionsSign up for FREEA free allpoetry.com account is required to comment and participate. It's fast and free!
Already a member?What is Oldpoetry?Learn from the poetic wisdom of the ages at Oldpoetry. Join the discussion, or apply to be an editor today.Enjoy, Emulate, Admire. CategoriesChildren, Eastern, Humour, Life, Love, Lyrics, Myth, Nature, Other, Philosophy, Sad, Society, Sonnet, Spirituality, Tribute, WarAdvertising Supported |