 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
Behold He Is at Hand That Doth Betray Me
Why come you out to me with clubs and staves,That you on every side have fenced me so?
In every act you dig for me deep graves;
In which my feet must walk where'er I go;
You speak and in your words my death I find,
Pierced through with many sorrows to the core;
And none that will the bleeding spirit bind,
But at each touch still freer flows the gore;
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For I must show my master's love for you;
The cov'nant that he made, forever sealed,
By blood is witnessed to be just and true;
And you in turn must bear the stripes I bear,
And in his sufferings learn alike to share.
Poem No. 818; c. January 1839
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |