Friday before Easter

YOu that like heedlesse Strangers passe along,
As if nought here concerned you to day;
Draw nigh, and heare the saddest Passion song,
That euer you did meet with in your way:
So sad a Storie ne're was told before,
Nor shall there be she like for euermore.

The greatest King that euer wore a Crowne,
More then the basest Vassaile was abus'de;
The truest Louer that was euer knowne,
By them he lou'd was most vnkindly vs'de:
And he that liu'd from all transgressions cleare,
Was plagu'd for all the sinnes that euer were.

Eu'n They, in pitty of whose fall he wept,
Wrought for his ruine, whilst he sought their good;
And watchet for him, when they should haue slept,
That they might quench their malice in his blood:
Yet (when their bonds from him he could haue thrown)
To saue their liues he daign'd to lose his owne.

Those, in whose harts compassion should haue been,
Insulted o're his poore afflicted soule;
And those that nothing ill in him had seen,
(As guilty) him accus d of treason soule:
Nay, him (that neuer had one idle thought)
They for blaspheming vnto Iudgement brought.

Where, some to aske him vaine demands begin;
And some to make a sport with him deuise:
Some at his answeres and behauiour grin;
And some doe spit their filth into his eyes:
Some giue him blowes, some mocke, & some reuile;
And he (good heart) sits quiet all the while.

Oh, that, where such a throng of men should be,
No heart was found so gentle to relent!
And that so good and meeke a Lambe as He,
Should be so vs'de, and yet no teare be spent!
Sure, when once malice fills the heart of man,
Nor stone, nor steele can be so hardned than.

For, after this, his clothes from him they stript,
And then, as if some Slaue this LORD had beene,
With cruell rods and scourges him they whipt,
Till wounds were ouer all his body seene:
In purple clad, and crowned too with thorne,
They set him forth, and honor'd him in scorne.

And, when they saw him in so sad a plight,
As might haue made a flintie heart to bleed,
They not a whit recanted at the sight;
But in their hellish fury did proceede:
Away with him; Away with him they said;
And Crucifie him, Crucifie him, Cryde.

A Crosse of wood, that huge, and heauy was,
Upon his bloudy shoulders next they lay;
Which onward to his Execution-place
He carryd, till he fainted in the way:
And, when he thither weake and tyred came;
To giue him rest they nayld him to the same.

Oh! could we but the thousand part relate,
Of those Afflictions, which they made him beare,
Our hearts with passion would dissolue thereat,
And we should sit and weepe for euer here;
Nor should we glad againe hereafter be,
But that we hope in glory him to see.

For, while vpon the Crosse he payned hung,
And was with soule tormentings also greeu'd;
(Farre more, then can be told by any tongue,
Or in the hearts of mortals be conceau'd)
Those, for whose sake he vnderwent such paine,
Reioyc'd thereat, and held him in disdaine.

One offerd to him vineger, and gall:
A second did his pious workes deride:
To dicing for his Robes did others fall;
And many mockt him when to GOD he cry'd.
Yet, he as they his paine still more procur'd,
Still lou'd, and for their good the more endur'd.

But, though his matchlesse Loue immortall were,
It was a mortall Body he had on,
That could no more then mortall Bodies beare;
Their malice therefore did preuaile thereon:
And loe, their vtmost furie hauing tri'de,
This Lambe of God gaue vp the ghost, & dy'de.

Whose Death, though cruell vnrelenting Man
Could view, without bewailing, or affright;
The Sunne grew darke, the Earth to quake began,
The Temple-vaile did rend asunder quite:
Yea, hardest Rockes there with in peeces brake,
And graues did open, and the Dead awake.

Oh therefore, let vs all that present be,
This Innocent with moued soules embrace;
For, this was our Redeemer, this was he,
Who thus for our vnkindnesse vsed was:
Eu'n He, the cursed Iewes and Pilate slew,
Is he alone, of whom all this is true.

Our sinnes of spight were part of those that day,
Whose cruell whips & thornes did make him smart;
Our Lusts were those that tyr'de him in the way;
Our want of loue was that which pierc't his heart:
And still when we forget, or sleight his paine,
We crucifie and torture him againe.