Poetry

                    A Saint’s Sorrow              

Humiliation, like night’s darkness, was upon me;

I had no human shoulder to lean on.

Sorrow, like awful gall, consumed me completely;

In my bitterness I was all alone.

I turn’d to human company—my pain had doubled;

There was no help for me upon the earth.

I roamed the world for help, for I was sore troubled;

I was a man to die not knowing mirth.

But then I turned my sorrow-laden eyes Heaven-ward,

And there I saw a Man upon a Throne.

Who’s that?-I thought—the answer came, the Holy Word;

He looked to me like Christ the Son of Man:

  I saw the marks upon His head and hands—

  Sadness and Darkness fled from me as friends.