Beneath Thy Cross
by Christina Rossetti
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.