It seems incredible.
Thorns and nails pierced You through,
The black earth gulped Your blood, and I,
What have I done for You?
Scattered words and hesitation
To stanch Your blood and pain:
Hopeless offering, and I hope
Your bloody, precious crown to gain?
The nails you grant him wear
The self-sainted hypocrite scorns.
Headache and the taste of failure
Lord, my nails, my thorns.