Poem for October 29, 2033

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,

Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,

For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he

Who could do no iniquity hath died:

But by my death can not be satisfied

My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:

They killed once an inglorious man, but I

Crucify him daily, being now glorified.

Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:

Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.

And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire

But to supplant, and with gainful intent:

God clothed himself in vile man's flesh, that so

He might be weak enough to suffer woe.