Thrasher's Call

Behold the smitten face of Christ, in history’s darkest hour: see our God-sent sacrifice face death in all its power. See the dolorous clench of death, see mourning Mary weep for dying kin, now robbed of breath and gripped by death’s cruel sleep. And look – alas! His heart was pierced, the Father’s triune perfect Son; who’d subdued that foe so fierce, who’d mastered death, had won, at last succumbed, and took on sin: for when He saw dead Lazarus, His human heart was struck within; base empathy He had for us. Take heed, and scorn the dreadful state of him, pathetic, beaten, weak, who best should know that God is great and scoffs on high at the weepy meek. But do not linger; glance to see the way that Jesus fell, lest you too commit empathy, and go, like Him, to hell.