Monday, May 16, 2011

Hymne to God the Father*

Before time
            your counsels chose
            that you would lose
eternal ties
            with your one
            and only Son.

Not sparing Him,
            you let the whips
            fall and the blood drip.
Judges condemned
            as the priests quipped.

On a dark hill,
            like Abraham,
            you left your Lamb.
No bright angel
            unveiled a ram

snared in thickets
            by its horns.
            Instead, the thorns
on Christ’s head caught
            the sacrifice
            of God’s own life.

Nails split
            His wrists and feet
            and severed sweet
communion, which
            left you bereaved.

Not even birth
            pangs compare to
            what you went through
at your Son’s death.
            Abba, thank you.




*The form of this poem was borrowed from Hymne to God the Father by Ben Jonson.
 See Ben Jonson's poem here:  http://4umi.com/jonson/hymn