The Sacrifice

Matthias Grünewald - The Crucifixion


.... Betwixt two thieves I spend my utmost breath,
As he that for some robbery suffereth.
Alas! what have I stolen from you? Death:
Was ever grief like mine?

A king my title is, prefixed on high,
Yet by my subjects am condemned to die
A servile death in servile company:
Was ever grief like mine?

They give me vinegar mingled with gall
But more with malice; yet when they did call,
With manna, angels' food, I fed them all:
Was ever grief like mine?

They part my garments, and by lot dispose
My coat, the type of love, which once cured those
Who sought for help, never malicious foes:
Was ever grief like mine?

Nay, after death their spite shall further go,
For they will pierce my side, I full well know,
That as sin came, so sacraments might flow:
Was ever grief like mine?

But now I die; now all is finished.
My woe, man's weal; and now I bow my head.
Only let others say, when I am dead,
Never was grief like mine.

-- From George Herbert, "The Sacrifice" (1633)