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Passion Sonnet

gethsemanePassion Sonnet


O Jesus! Now Your blood begins to pour

From Your face with the sweat of Adam’s curse.

Judas has received the silver purse

And your disciples have begun to snore.

Your feet, washed with the weeping of a whore,

Your throat, which soon will gasp in bitter thirst,

Contort and choke; Your capillaries burst

And sobs wrack Your body to its core.


All this because my sins swarm upon You

And sting You with the thorn-pricks of despair,

And all the evil I routinely do

Is but the billionth part of what You bear.

Yet You accept and say, “Thy will be done,”

And let my guilt lie wholly on God’s Son.

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