Last Good Friday, I wrote a Lenten poem. It reflects on the inextricable corruption of sin in this life (the “thorn”, borrowing St. Paul’s language in 2 Cor. 12), and Christ’s bearing all our sin—not only our outward transgressions, but even that deepest corruption in our hearts. As He was pierced with literal thorns at His Passion, so also He was pierced with our thorns and made satisfaction for them. Here’s the text of the poem. (We’ll return to another Rossetti poem in my next article!) A blessed Holy Week and Easter to you all!
The thorn within my flesh is buried deep,
So deep, it seems, indeed I must despair
That till I lay aside my flesh in sleep,
It will be there.
So Adam, cast from Eden’s fruitful ground,
Soon saw his sin’s corruption take its toll:
The thorns sprung from the earth, he also found
Within his soul.
O Christ, Thou ev’ry sin of mine hast borne,
The single deeds which sore offended Thee;
But Thou wast also crowned with ev’ry thorn
That stingeth me.
So if Thou wilt not take away the smart,
I fear no wrath; the thorn serves Thy design
That I despair of all within my heart
And run to Thine.
In Christ,
Miss Hahn
