This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.
\nThere I should see a Sunne, by rising set,
\nAnd by that setting endlesse day beget;
\nBut that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,
\nSinne had eternally benighted all.
\nYet dare I’almost be glad, I do not see
\nThat spectacle of too much weight for mee.
\nWho sees Gods face, that is selfe life, must dye;
\nWhat a death were it then to see God dye?
\nIt made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,
\nIt made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke.
\nCould I behold those hands which span the Poles,
\nAnd tune all spheares at once peirc’d with those holes?
\nCould I behold that endlesse height which is
\nZenith to us, and our Antipodes,
\nHumbled below us? or that blood which is
\nThe seat of all our Soules, if not of his,
\nMade durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne
\nBy God, for his apparell, rag’d, and torne?<\/p>\n
Read it all<\/a>.<\/p>\n 'Behold the wood of the cross: on which hung the salvation of the world. Come, let us adore him.'#GoodFriday<\/a> pic.twitter.com\/IB4fcf8NwZ<\/a><\/p>\n — Westminster Abbey (@wabbey) April 7, 2023<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n \n