Good Friday

The black sky’s wind carries a sorrowful cry; The seamless garment cast away by lots. While the Father’s promise turns to a lie, And Judas hangs upon a rope and rots. Hell’s angels rejoice: God dead on a cross: On this day all man’s hope is lost. At the Incarnation holy angels sang ‘Glory’ Now Satan’s hellish host is heard to howl: ‘God’s blood stains earth, so ends the heav’nly story!’ Unholy cheers roar from a demonic scowl. Hell’s angels rejoice: God dead on a cross: On this day all man’s hope is lost. To the Almighty, the God-Man exclaimed, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani!” The final words his abandonment claimed, As from three nails He hung in agony. Hell’s angels rejoice: God dead on a cross: On this day all man’s hope is lost. The Rock crumbles thrice with swift sorry starkness, As the Followers down Golgatha run. They had thought He would conquer all darkness, But now all darkness had conquered the Son. Hell’s angels rejoice: God dead on a cross: On this day all man’s hope is lost. At long last, the Woman would fall in defeat, As trust under crucifix’s shadow must fail: This day is her destined time to be beat; The wicked scrutinize her face, white and pale. Hell’s angels rejoice: God dead on a cross: On this day all man’s hope is lost. But on that clear canvas no fear can be found; Her face flickers bright despite prying pain. Hell’s angels recoil as they hear a strange sound— Soft and low, Theotokos starts slowly to sing: ‘Heaven’s angels’ rejoice: The ransom now paid— On this day all man’s hope is laid.’ Gazing in Bane of Hell’s passionate eyes, Satan felt that his whole being did tremble. It was then that he knew the Christ would soon rise, While at the gates of Hell the righteous assemble. Heaven’s angels rejoice: The ransom now paid— On this day all man’s hope is laid. Good Friday, Good Friday, teach us how to love; Good Friday, Good Friday, give freedom in trust; Good Friday, Good Friday, bring grace from above; As violently through this world we are thrust. And heaven’s angels rejoice: The ransom now paid— On this day all man’s hope is laid.

Kathryn Husing

Kathryn Husing earned her BA in English at St. Norbert College in De Pere, WI. She currently works as a freelance writer. She and her husband live in La Crosse, WI with a priest and seven high school boys who are discerning the priesthood at the Holy Cross Seminary House of Formation.

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An English Apocalypse

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Sampagita