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Death And Burial Of Jesus

Last updated on April 30, 2021

…”Now it is finished.” Then he bowed his head and delivered over his spirit.  (John 19: 30)

 

Jesus is crucified. Painting Anton Van Dyck. Image by Renata Sedmakova
Crucifixion of Christ

What Source of Love

by Rod Minns, Good Friday, 2019

What source of love is this
who’s will it was
to crush his Son with pain?
From what spring does flow
a love desiring such a thing unknown
His beloved Son to be condemned
and mocked, and crucified?

Who is this Son
While in the garden cries alone
returns a love from anguished heart
“Not my will but yours be done.”

With a kiss is then betrayed
and seized and taken away.
Behold such love
in silence no resistance makes
to jeering crowds and soldier’s scoff.

Should not I, gone astray
whose sins like scarlet darkens day
be nailed to bleed upon the cross?

This source of unimagined love instead
takes upon himself my grievous faults
and casts them to a raging sea
the while forgiving to his final breath.

With contrite heart and tearful eye
I kneel before such love
and will forever drink
the fountain of His Precious Blood.

BURIAL

burial of Jesus painting by Joseph Janssens
burial preparation                                                                        Joseph Janssens

 

They took Jesus’ body, and in accordance with Jewish burial custom bound it up in wrappings of cloth and perfumed oils. In the place where he had been crucified there was a garden and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had ever been buried.  Because of the Jewish Preparation Day, they buried Jesus there, for the tomb was close at hand. (John 19: 40-42)

 

What a Sea of Bitter Sorrow

by Charles Gounod

What a sea of bitter sorrow,
Did the soul of Mary toss,
To and fro upon its billows,
While she wept her bitter loss;
In her arms her Jesus holding,
Torn but newly from the Cross.

O that mournful Virgin Mother;
See her tears how fast they flow
Down upon his mangled body,
Wounded side and thorny brow;
while his hands and feet she kisses
Picture of immortal woe.

Gentle Mother, we beseech thee,
By the tears and anguish sore,
By the death of thy dear Offspring,
By the bleeding wounds he bore;
Touch our hearts with that true sorrow
Which afflicted thee of yore.

 

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A retired Catholic teacher with a freelance writing stint, I love playing the best game on earth, hockey, or paddling kayaks on a river, lake, or ocean. My home is in the heart of Christ, held in the arms of His Mother who accompanies me when I receive the Eucharist. My seven kids range from 21 to 38 years old.