Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
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Her opening lines are so profound with emotion, as the lament flows through the rest of the poem, with the last stanza resolute in hope, totally redeeming the sorrow 'beneath the Cross.' A masterpiece!
Great poem, could not have said it better.