Sixth Station
Good Friday
Come, all you who pass by.
Can you hear them moan and sigh?
Hot tears, bitter tears,
All your fears,
All those years,
Were they a waste?
I will not let it be a waste.
Here, man, if you will not turn back,
Here is a piece of my own slack,
What I should have been doing,
Hopefully, by this penance proving,
You Lord, are not alone.
Matthew B. Rose
