My face they cover, though it be divine. Servants and abjects flout me; they are witty: Was ever grief like mine? And now I am deliver❜d unto death, Which each one calls for fo with utmost breath, Was ever grief like mine? Weep not, dear friends, fince I for both have wept, When all my tears were blood, the while you flept: Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept: Was ever grief like mine? The foldiers lead me to the common hall; Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear; Was ever grief like mine? So fits the earth's great curfe in Adam's fall Upon my head; fo I remove it all From the earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall: Was ever grief like mine? Then with the reed they gave to me before, Was ever grief like mine? They bow their knees to me, and cry, Hail, king:` Whatever fcoffs or fcornfulness can bring, I am the floor, the fink, where they it fling: Was ever grief like mine? Yet fince man's fceptres are as frail as reeds, Was ever grief like mine? The foldiers also spit upon that face Which Angels did defire to have the grace, Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout, They lead me in once more, and putting then Was ever grief like mine? And now weary of fport, glad to engross Was ever grief like mine? My cross I bear myself, until I faint: Was ever grief like mine? O all ye who pass by, behold and fee: Was ever grief like mine? Lo, here I hang, charged with a world of fin, The greater world o' the two; for that came in By words, but this by forrow I must win: Was ever grief like mine? Such forrow, as if finful man could feel, But, O my God, my God! why leaveft thou me, The Son, in whom thou doft delight to be? My God, my God Was ever grief like mine? Shame tears my foul, my body many a wound; Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound; Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound: Was ever grief like mine? Now heal thyself, Physician; now come down. And father's fmile for you, to feel his frown: In healing not myself, there doth confift Was ever grief like mine? Betwixt two thieves I spend my utmost breath, Was ever grief like mine? A king my title is, prefix'd on high; Yet by my fubjects I'm condemn'd to die Was ever grief like mine? They gave me vinegar mingled with gall, Was ever grief like mine? They part my garments, and by lot dispose Was ever grief like mine? Nay, after death their spite fhall further go; Was ever grief like mine? But now I die; now all is finished. my head: Never was grief like mine. OF V. THE THANKSGIVING. H King of grief! (a title strange, yet true, Oh King of wounds! how fhall I grieve for thee, Shall I weep blood? why, thou hast wept such store, That all thy body was one door. Shall I be fcourged, flouted, boxed, fold? "Tis but to tell the tale is told. My God, my God, why doft thou part from me? Was fuch a grief as cannot be. Shall I then fing, skipping, thy doleful story, And fide with thy triumphant glory? Shall thy ftrokes be my ftroking? thorns, my flower? Thy rod, my pofy? crofs, my bower? But how then shall I imitate thee, and Copy thy fair, though bloody hand? Surely I will revenge me on thy love, And try who shall victorious prove. I will not marry; or, if she be mine, She and her children fhall be thine. |