This week’s poem

I have little time, so what was planned for this week is yet to be finished being typed, and what was planned for next week has yet to be found.  So here’s another poem, but a good one nonetheless.  It’s by Dorothy L. Sayers, from Catholic Tales and Christian Songs:

Jesus, if, against my will,
I have wrought Thee any ill,
And, seeking but to do Thee grace,
Have smitten Thee upon the face,
If my kiss for Thee be not
Of John, but of Iscariot,
Prithee then, good Jesus, pardon
As Thou once didst in the garden,
Call me “Friend,” and with my crime
Build Thou Thy passion more sublime.


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