Holy and Great Friday

Every part of Your sacred body endured humiliation on our account:
Your head the thorns
Your face the spittings
Your cheeks the blows
Your lips the bitter taste of vinegar mixed with gall
Your ears the impious blasphemies
Your back the scouring
Your hand the reed
Your whole body, stretched out on the Cross
Your limbs the nails and
Your side the lance
You Who suffered for our sake and thus freed us from suffering
Who in Your love condescended to us
then raised us up, Almightly Saviour, 
have mercy on us.

As your were crucified, O Christ, all creation looked and trembled.
Thge earth's foundations quaked in awe of Your power.
For today as You were lifed up, Your nation perished.
The veil of the Temple was torn in two
the tombs were opened and the dead rose from their graves
The Centurion witnessed the wonder and was shaken,
while Your Mother, standing near, grieving like a mother, lamented:
"How can I not mourn and be cut to the heart when I behold You naked,
a condemned man hanging from the Tree?"
O Lord, crucifed, buried, and risen from the dead,
Glory to You.
---from The Lauds on Holy Thursday evening


"O sacred Head, now wounded,
with grief and shame weighed down,
now scornfully surrounded
with thorns, thine only crown:
how pale thou art with anguish,
with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish
which once was bright as morn!

What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest friend,
for this thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
O make me thine forever;
and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
outlive my love for thee."