“It is finished”

Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894)

DEAR Lord, let me recount to Thee

Some of the great things thou hast done

For me, even me

Thy little one.

It was not I that cared for Thee,—

But Thou didst set Thy heart upon

Me, even me

Thy little one.

And therefore was it sweet to Thee

To leave Thy Majesty and Throne,

And grow like me

A Little One,

A swaddled Baby on the knee

Of a dear Mother of Thine own,

Quite weak like me

Thy little one.

Thou didst assume my misery,

And reap the harvest I had sown,

Comforting me

Thy little one.

Jerusalem and Galilee,—

Thy love embraced not those alone,

But also me

Thy little one.

Thy unblemished Body on the Tree

Was bared and broken to atone

For me, for me

Thy little one.

Thou lovedst me upon the Tree,—

Still me, hid by the ponderous stone,—

Me always,—me

Thy little one.

And love of me arose with Thee

When death and hell lay overthrown:

Thou lovedst me

Thy little one.

And love of me went up with Thee

To sit upon Thy Father’s Throne:

Thou lovedst me

Thy little one:

Lord, as Thou me, so would I Thee

Love in pure love’s communion,

For Thou lov’st me

Thy little one:

Which love of me brings back with Thee

To Judgment when the Trump is blown,

Still loving me

Thy little one.

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