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"Surely, It Is Not I, Lord?"
No! I am not guilty.
No! Lord, surely it was not I,
Who nailed You to that splintered wood
And left You there to die?
I live now, and did not then,
That dreadful deed cannot be mine.
Surely, the bloody act committed
Cannot reach into this time?
But as I gaze upon the cross
And see Your tortured face,
I cannot help but wonder
If I too, brought You to that place.
I have betrayed You just like Judas,
Time and time again.
It’s not a question of “if” I’ll deny You,
But sadly only a matter of “when?”
I’m just like Herod who mocked You,
And Pilate who backed down.
I’m like the scared apostles
Who didn’t want to be found.
Since You were not only man,
But also fully God,
Could You see my many sins
As the soldiers raised the rod?
Every lash that tore Your skin,
And every insult uttered,
Were because of every falsehood,
Every careless word I’ve muttered.
Every disrespectful action
Slapped You in the face,
As every impure thought and word
Brought upon You such disgrace.
When the soldiers brought the crown of thorns
To place upon Your head
It was fashioned out of every
Spiteful word I’ve ever said.
Your cross at first sight appears
To be made entirely of wood,
But my sins contributed to the weight
Like I never thought they could!
My thoughtless ingratitude and disrespect
Must have made You fall.
Oh, how unbearable it must have been
To bear the sins of all!
How ashamed You must have felt
When the soldiers stripped You;
And yet I was one of them…
What they did, I also do….
Every act of sacrilege
Helped to nail You there.
But Love let You remain
And You said nothing except in prayer.
And as You hung upon the cross
In the bitterest agony
Your one and only thought
Was for sinful, selfish me.
You gave your mother to us
To take care of us all.
We who crucified You,
Who crowned You and made You fall.
And when You sent forth Your last breath
Not only was the temple veil torn
But the gates of Heaven were opened
For all yet to be born.
As Mary held Your body
All bloodied and defiled,
This might sound sacrilegious…
But I think she might have smiled.
Because she surely must have known
You would renew us in Your grace
That You left Your throne in Heaven, that we
Might eternally see you face-to-face.
And when your mother let You go
To place You in the tomb
Did she lovingly remember
When You were safe in her womb?
Did she know that you would come
Where we could see You everyday
Hidden in the tabernacle
Like the tomb in which you laid?
So after meditation
I know Lord, that it was I,
Who nailed You to that splintered wood
And left You there to die.
And yet, despite this accusation
I still marvel at the thought
That you came to earth, our debt to pay
Our freedom you have brought.
I am just a sinful human
And yet You, God’s only son,
Would still have come to earth to die
Even if I had been the only one.
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I wrote this poem in imitation of The Hill Wife (Loneliness; Her Word), by Robert Frost. In it I was trying to convey some of the depth and mystery of Lent, the Passion and Death of Christ, the wondrous work of Salvation, and also the miracle of Easter!