Who of us can ever fully understand the enormity of Good Friday?

Good Friday
By Christina Rossetti (1830–1894)
 
AM I a stone and not a sheep
  That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy Cross,
  To number drop by drop Thy Blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?
 
Not so those women loved         
  Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
  Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
 
Not so the Sun and Moon
  Which hid their faces in a starless sky,         
A horror of great darkness at broad noon—
  I, only I.
 
Yet give not o’er,
  But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more         
  And smite a rock.

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