A Better Resurrection by Christina Georgina Rossetti

A Better Resurrection

I have no wit, no words, no tears;

     My heart within me like a stone

Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;

     Look right, look left, I dwell alone;

I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief

     No everlasting hills I see;

My life is in the falling leaf:

          O Jesus, quicken me!

My life is like a faded leaf,

     My harvest dwindled to a husk;

Truly my life is void and brief

     And tedious in the barren dusk;

My life is like a frozen thing,

     No bud nor greenness can I see:

Yet rise it shall,—the sap of Spring;

          O Jesus, rise in me!

My life is like a broken bowl,

     A broken bowl that cannot hold

One drop of water for my soul

     Or cordial in the searching cold;

Cast in the fire the perished thing,

     Melt and remould it, till it be

A royal cup for Him my King:

          O Jesus, drink of me!

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

The Descent from the Cross by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Is this the Face that thrills with awe

     Seraphs who veil their face above?

Is this the Face without a flaw,

     The Face that is the Face of Love?

Yea, this defaced, a lifeless clod,

     Hath all creation's love sufficed,

Hath satisfied the love of God,

     This Face the Face of Jesus Christ.

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Surely He hath borne our griefs by Christina Rossetti

Christ's Heart was wrung for me, if mine is sore;
And if my feet are weary, His have bled;
He had no place wherein to lay His Head;
If I am burdened, He was burdened more.
The cup I drink, He drank of long before;
He felt the unuttered anguish which I dread;
He hungered Who the hungry thousands fed,
And thirsted Who the world's refreshment bore.
If grief be such a looking-glass as shows
Christ's Face and man's in some sort made alike,
Then grief is pleasure with a subtle taste:
Wherefore should any fret or faint or haste?
Grief is not grievous to a soul that knows
Christ comes, -- and listens for that hour to strike.