Good Friday, Flying Eastward
The hours which You spent upon the Cross,
Have flown from me; (I fly against the sun).
Morning I have, and evening; all my loss
Is midday. Just the time, Lord, when You won
The battle for my soul has been undone.
How should I have a portion in the fight
If that grim afternoon were not begun,
The time of darkness overwhelming light?
Where would I be if in Your holy sight
No sacrifice were offered for my sin,
If I should stand before You with no right
But merit of my own? Let the Earth spin,
And let my daylight hours be short or long,
But save the moment that removes my wrong.
by Philip Rosenbaum, from his collection Holy Week Sonnets (2004)
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