Mother, why are people crowding now and staring? <br />Child, it is a malefactor goes to His doom, <br />To the high hill of Calvary He's faring, <br />And the people pressing and pushing to make room <br />Lest they miss the sight to come. <br /> <br />Oh, the poor malefactor, heavy is His load! <br />Now He falls beneath it and they goad Him on. <br />Sure the road to Calvary's a steep up-hill road -- <br />Is there none to help Him with His Cross -- not one? <br />Must He bear it all alone? <br /> <br />Here is a country boy with business in the city, <br />Smelling of the cattle's breath and the sweet hay; <br />Now they bid him lift the Cross, so they have some pity: <br />Child, they fear the malefactor dies on the way <br />And robs them of their play. <br /> <br />Has He no friends then, no father nor mother, <br />None to wipe the sweat away nor pity His fate? <br />There's a woman weeping and there's none to soothe her: <br />Child, it is well the seducer expiate <br />His crimes that are so great. <br /> <br />Mother, did I dream He once bent above me, <br />This poor seducer with the thorn-crowned head, <br />His hands on my hair and His eyes seemed to love me? <br />Suffer little children to come to Me, He said -- <br />His hair, his brows drip red. <br /> <br />Hurrying through Jerusalem on business or pleasure <br />People hardly pause to see Him go to His death <br />Whom they held five days ago more than a King's treasure, <br />Shouting Hosannas, flinging many a wreath <br />For this Jesus of Nazareth.<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-friday-a-d-33/
