The Crown Of Thorns

“And unto Adam He said…. cursed is the ground for thy sake. Thorns…. shall bring it forth.”

“And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and put it on His head.”

In bitterest sorrow did the ground bring forth

Its fatal seed. Thine eye beheld the birth-

Beheld the travail of accursèd earth;

E’en then, O Lord! in greater love than wrath!

Thou sawest the sin that none could gather out-

The vineyard cover’d with the thorn and briar;

Thou sawest the fair land ready for the fire-

And still Thy pity compass’d it about.

Thou, O most merciful! didst spare the brand;

Thou didst redeem the Paradise of God;

The thorns were rooted from the stubborn sod.

In pain and toil, by Thine own blessèd hand.

How was our path to heaven o’er grown with sin-

Bramble, and thistle, and the poisonous weed!

Though hearts should break, and patient feet should bleed,

And strive and struggle, none could walk therein.

And Thou didst call us when we went astray-

Didst make our high road straight for evermore;

And, for our guidance, passèd on before,

Leaving Thy shining footprints in the way.

Still do the wild thorns hedge us round about;

Still grow the thistles from the ancient stock;

Still trails the bramble on the blasted rock-

But we can dig, and Thou wilt pull them out.

Ay, we can work-oh, help us in the strife!

Labour is sweet, for Thou dost share it now.

And we shall eat, in sweat of furrow’d brow,

Not earthly food, but Thine own Bread of Life.

And there are thorns of suffering left behind-

Sorrow and loss-that weigh our courage down;

But, ah! we know Thy sacramental crown

Was made of sin and sorrow, intertwined.

Give us of Thy sweet patience, Lord, we pray.

We would not spurn them with rebellious kicks,

Nor fret and strive, for Thou canst feel the pricks;

We too would wear them as a crown for aye.

We would put on Thy likeness-we, the least

And most unworthy. Ay, each piercing thorn,

In Thy name patiently and meekly worn,

Shall bear a blossom for the bridal feast.

Look down, O Brother with the yearning eyes!

Behold us kneeling at Thy bitter cross!

Grant us a share in all Thine earthly loss,

That we may share Thy gain in Paradise.

O weary Head! we see Thee drooping now

Beneath that diadem of mortal pain:

We see Thee sprinkled with the scarlet stain;-

Drop down the chrism on our polluted brow!

O sacred Head!-pale, beautiful, benign-

On our heads be Thy precious blood, we cry!

Lo, the destroying angel, passing by,

Shall spare to smite us-reverencing the sign.

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Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

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Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: To A Louse: On Seeing One On A Lady’s Bonnet, At Church by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Mr. M’Adam, Of Craigen-Gillan: In answer to an obliging Letter he sent in the commencement of my poetic career. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To John Kennedy, Dumfries House: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Inventory: In answer to a mandate by the Surveyor of the Taxes by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To The Unco Guid, Or The Rigidly Righteous: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Here’s His Health In Water : by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Rantin’ Dog, The Daddie O’t: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Vision: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epistle To James Smith: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Ordination : For sense they little owe to frugal Heav’n- To please the mob, they hide the little giv’n. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Author’s Earnest Cry And Prayer: To the Right Honourable and Honourable Scotch Representatives in the House of Commons. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Twa Dogs: A Tale by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Auld Farmer’s New-Year-Morning Salutation To His Auld Mare, Maggie: On giving her the accustomed ripp of corn to hansel in the New Year. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Scotch Drink : by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To The Deil: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Cotter’s Saturday Night: Inscribed to R. Aiken, Esq., of Ayr. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Merry Hae I Been Teethin A Heckle: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: For A’ That: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Adam Armour’s Prayer: by Robert Burns

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Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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