Classic Poem

Meditation VI

Christ's Sufferings are our Copy-Book, Whereon we often ought to look

1

Let every suffering Saint
Consider Jesus Christ,
What Sufferings great he under-went,
Who is our Blest High-Priest
What Misery can'st thou name,
He hath not undergone,
Who was most innocent and just,
And nought amiss had done

2

When we are like to faint,
And when our spirits fail,
When discontents, discouragements,
And terrours us assail:
When thou art apt to say,
No grief was e're like mine,
Then think of Christ, and sure thou'lt say,
His far exceeded thine

3

Art thou a prisoner?
Our Lord himself was Bound,
Art thou disgrac'd? why, he was scorn'd,
And trampled to the ground.
Blindfolded, spit upon,
Most wrongfully accused,
Reviled, mocked, buffetted,
And wickedly abused.

4

Art thou in poverty?
Why, Christ himself was poore,
And had not where to lay his head;
It's like he gives thee more
Art thou in heaviness?
He was a man of Grief;
Whose Soul was sorrowful to Death,
To purchase our relief.

5

Or do temptations vex thee?
He tempted was likewise:
He pitieth when such things perplex thee,
And helps thee when thou cries
Do Sin and wrath distress thee?
None so distrest as he,
Who underwent God's direful wrath
From wrath our Souls to free.

6

If thus our Generall,
No danger hath declin'd:
Well may his Souldiers be content,
Some hardship for to find
If he hath suffered,
In whom no guilt was found,
Well may we suffer for our faults,
Whose sins so much abound.

7

If God's dear Son hath dy'd,
And born his Fathers Ire:
Well may the sinful sons of men
Pass through a gentle fire
Since only for our sake,
All this he under-went:
What cause have we with our light Cross,
To be right well content

8

He drank up all the Dregs,
And bitterest of the Cup,
The Cup, he gives us, is allay'd
And but a little sup
Oh then my sinful soull
If Christ to suffering call,
Take up thy Cross, and willingly,
Follow thy Generall.