Ash Wednesday to Pentecost
Garments
- He who was wrapped in peasant coarseness
Was yet a king who might have dressed in silk,
Who could have supped on nectar in his grandness,
But favoured comfort in His mother's milk. - He who was stripped and scourged most cruelly,
Whose garments were the prize for rolling dice,
Was such a perfect man, he was the only
One who gained nothing from His sacrifice. - He, wound in mourning, was so wounded
No drop of sacred crimson touched the white
Which, neat in triumph, angels carefully folded
When He errupted from The Tomb in light.
