The Dream of the Rood

(Photo of the crucifix inside the Church of the Gesu, Rome.)

This poem is called "The Dream of the Rood" (ca. 750). The author is unknown. Like Herbert's "The Sacrifice" below, this poem offers another perspective from the Crucifixion--the cross itself (Rood is the old English word for cross). Once again I am going to post a link to the poem since the link offers commentary, but here is a sample.

"On shoulders men bore me there, then fixed me on hill;
fiends enough fastened me. Then saw I mankind's Lord
come with great courage when he would mount on me.
Then dared I not against the Lord's word
bend or break, when I saw earth's
fields shake. All fiends
I could have felled, but I stood fast.
The young hero stripped himself--he, God Almighty--
strong and stout-minded. He mounted high gallows,
bold before many, when he would loose mankind.
I shook when that Man clasped me. I dared, still, not bow to earth,
fall to earth's fields, but had to stand fast.
Rood was I reared. I lifted a mighty King,
Lord of the heavens, dared not to bend.
With dark nails they drove me through: on me those sores are seen,
open malice-wounds. I dared not scathe anyone.
They mocked us both, we two together. All wet with blood I was,
poured out from that Man's side, after ghost he gave up."

Read the entire poem here.

Dark was the night

Here is Blind Willie Johnson's "Dark was the Night, Cold was the Ground." Although it is wordless, the moans and music are laments over the suffering of Christ.

Good Friday

For Holy Week, rather than write posts myself, I will post different art (visual, literature, music) by people much more brilliant than myself. This first poem is from Jesuit priest, innovative poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1899).

New Readings

Although the letter said
On thistles that men look not grapes to gather,
I read the story rather
How soldiers platting thorns around CHRIST'S Head
Grapes grew and drops of wine were shed.

Though when the sower sowed
The winged fowls took part, part fell in thorn
And never turned to corn,
Part found no root upon the flinty road,-
CHRIST at all hazards fruit hath shewed.

From wastes of rock He brings
Food for five thousand: on the thorns He shed
Grains from His drooping Head;
And would not have that legion of winged things
Bear Him to heaven on easeful wings.


Friend and poet of Hopkin's, Robert Bridges, indicated that this poem had similarities with George Herbert's poem The Sacrifice. I apologize for the unnecessary music that is on the following page, either turn off your sound or turn the volume down and hit pause. Read "The Sacrifice" here.