Good Friday

By Abram Joseph Ryan

O Heart of Three-in-the evening,

You nestled the thorn-crowned head;

He leaned on you in His sorrow,

And rested on you when dead.

Ah! Holy Three-in-the evening

He gave you His richest dower;

He met you afar on Calvary,

And made you “His own last hour”.

O Brow of Three-in-the evening,

Thou wearest a crimson crown;

Thou art Priest of the hours forever,

And thy voice, as thou goest down

The cycles of time, still murmurs

The story of love each day:

“I held in death the Eternal,

In the long and the far-away.”

O Heart of Three-in-the evening,

Mine beats with thine to-day;

Thou tellest the olden story,

I kneel — and I weep and pray.