To number drop by drop Thy blood's slow loss...


Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
     That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
     Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
     Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
     Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon--
     I, only I.
Yet give not o'er,
     But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
     And smite a rock.

Christina Georgina Rossetti
Twitch of the mantilla to Linen on the Hedgerow.  
PS - I could not find a You-Tube video for this poem, so there's an 'opening' for someone to produce a video with this poem. 

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