Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm <br />Bends back the brier that edges life's long way, <br />That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm, <br />I do not feel the thorns so much to-day. <br />Because I never knew your care to tire, <br />Your hand to weary guiding me aright, <br />Because you walk before and crush the brier, <br />It does not pierce my feet so much to-night. <br />Because so often you have hearkened to <br />My selfish prayers, I ask but one thing now, <br />That these harsh hands of mine add not unto <br />The crown of thorns upon your bleeding brow.<br /><br />Emily Pauline Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brier-good-friday-2/
