Poem for Good Friday

O Jesus, on the cross, alone,
you are the only God I know;
my pleading heart a barren stone
no heaven finds but here below.

I met you hanging on a tree
in woods obscure, half spent the day,
forsaken by your God, like me,
without a friend to share the way.

Companionship then let us keep—
though mortal fear each footstep bars—
as we descend through dark and deep,
together searching for the stars.


  1. Beautiful! Thanks.

  2. Mary Lythgoe Bradford says:

    A lovely poem–Thanks!

  3. Thanks, Jason. Just to nerd out for a moment: the poem itself is lovely, but I also really like how you capture the feel of the seventeenth-century lyric.

  4. Jason K. says:

    Thanks, Sharon. I still think that I’m no George Herbert, but I’ll accept the compliment.

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