In Preparation for Easter

I am so excited about Easter... It is right for Easter to be more exciting than Christmas because there wouldn't be a reason to celebrate Christmas without the Resurrection of easter Sunday. So, I want to post some things I've been reading and thinking about to help us prepare for Easter.

The Sacrifice
By: George Herbert

Oh, all ye, who pass by, whose eyes and mind
To worldly things are sharp, but to me blind,
To me, who took eyes that I might you find:
Was ever grief like mine?

Without me each one, who doth now me brave,
Had to this day been an Egyptian slave.
They use that power against me, which I gave
Was ever grief like mine?

Mine own apostle, who the bag did bear,
Though he had all I had, did not forbear
To sell me also, and put me there:
Was ever grief like mine?

Therefore my soul melts, and my heart’s dear treasure
Drops blood (the only beads) my words to measure:
O let this cup pass, if it be thy pleasure
Was ever grief like mine?

With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,
Who am the way of Truth, the true relief,
Most true to those, who are my greatest grief:
Was ever grief like mine?

Then they accuse me of great blasphemy,
That I did thrust into the deity,
Who never thought that any robbery:
Was ever grief like mine?

Some said, that I the temple to the floor
In three days razed, and raised as before.
Why, he that built the world can do much more:
Was ever grief like mine?

Then they condemn me all with that same breath,
Which I do give them daily, unto death.
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:
Was ever grief like mine?

Hark how they cry aloud still, crucify:
It is not fit he live a day, they cry,
Who cannot live less than eternally:
Was ever grief like mine?

Ah! How they scourge me! Yet my tenderness
Doubles each lash: and yet their bitterness
Winds up my grief to a mysteriousness
Was ever grief like mine?

Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept
When all my tears were blood, the while you slept:
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:
Was ever grief like mine?

The soldiers also spit upon that face,
Which angels did desire to have the grace,
And prophets once to see, but found no place:
Was ever grief like mine?

And now weary of sport, glad to engross
All spite in one, counting my life their loss,
They carry me to my most bitter cross:
Was ever grief like mine?

O all ye who pass by, behold and see;
Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree,
The tree of life to all, but only me:
Was ever grief like mine?

Lo, here I hand, charged with a world of sin,
The greater world o’th’ two; for that I came in
By words, but this by sorrow I must win:
Was ever grief like mine?

But, O my God, my God! Why leav’st thou me,
The Son, in whom thou doest delight to be?
My God, My God -------
Never was grief like mine

Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound,
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound,
Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound.
Was ever grief like mine?

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?
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 did; 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.