George Herbert--The Sacrifice (Pt 2)

Then from one ruler to another bound
They lead Me: urging, that it was not sound
What I taught: comments would the text confound.
Was ever grief like mine?

The priests and rulers all false witness seek
'Gainst Him, who seeks not life, but is the meek
And ready Paschal Lamb of this great week:
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?

They bind, and lead Me unto Herod: he
Sends Me to Pilate. This makes them agree;
But yet their friendship is My enmity.
Was ever grief like mine?

Herod and all his bands so set Me light,
Who teach all hands to war, fingers to fight,
And only am the Lord of hosts and might.
Was ever grief like mine?

Herod in judgment sits, while I do stand;
Examines me with a censorious hand:
I him obey, who all things else command:
Was ever grief like mine?

The Jews accuse Me with despitefulness;
And vying malice with My gentleness,
Pick quarrels with their only happiness:
Was ever grief like mine?

I answer nothing, but with patience prove
If stony hearts will melt with gentle love.
But who does hawk at eagles with a dove?
Was ever grief like mine?

My silence rather doth augment their cry;
My Dove doth back into My bosom fly,
Because the raging waters still are high:
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?

Pilate, a stranger, holdeth off; but they,
Mine own dear people, cry, Away, away,
With noises confused frighting the day.
Was ever grief like mine?

Yet still they shout, and cry, and stop their ears,
Putting My life among their sins and fears,
And therefore wish My blood on them and theirs.
Was ever grief like mine?

See how spite cankers things. These words aright
Used, and wished, are the whole world's delight:
But honey is their gall, brightness their night:
Was ever grief like mine?

They choose a murderer, and all agree
In him to do themselves a courtesy;
For it was their own cause who killed Me:
Was ever grief like mine?

And a seditious murderer he was:
But I the Prince of peace; peace that doth pass
All understanding, more than heaven doth glass:
Was ever grief like mine?

Why, Caesar is their only King, not I:
He clave the stony rock, when they were dry;
But surely not their hearts, as I well try.
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?

They buffet Me, and box Me as they list,
Who grasp the earth and heaven with My fist,
And never yet, whom I would punish, missed:
Was ever grief like mine?

Behold, they spit on Me in scornful wise;
Who by My spittle gave the blind man eyes,
Leaving his blindness to Mine enemies:
Was ever grief like mine?

My face they cover, though it be divine.
As Moses' face was veiled, so is Mine,
Lest on their double-dark souls either shine:
Was ever grief like mine?

Servants and abjects flout Me; they are witty:
Now prophesy who strikes Thee! is their ditty.
So they, in Me, deny themselves all pity:
Was ever grief like mine?

And now I am delivered unto death,
Which each one calls for so with utmost breath,
That he before Me well-nigh suffereth:
Was ever grief like mine?