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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Poems in English 

• A Channel Passage by Rupert Brooke by Rupert Brooke
• 1914 V: The Soldier by Rupert Brooke by Rupert Brooke
• 1914 IV: The Dead by Rupert Brooke by Rupert Brooke
• 1914 III: The Dead by Rupert Brooke by Rupert Brooke
• 1914 II: Safety by Rupert Brooke by Rupert Brooke
• 1914 I: Peace by Rupert Brooke by Rupert Brooke
• When Day Is Done by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• When and Why by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• Vocation by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• Untimely Leave by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• Twelve O’Clock by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• Threshold by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Wicked Postman by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Unheeded Pageant by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Source by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Sailor by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Recall by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Rainy Day by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Lotus by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore
• The Little Big Man by Rabindranath Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore

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