Good Friday Poem – I See His Blood
I See His Blood
I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.
I see his face in every flower;
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his voice—and carven by his power
Rocks are his written words.
All pathways by his feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.
Joseph Mary Plunkett
This is a link to Caoineadh na dTrí Muire by Seosamh Uí Éanaí (Joe Heaney):
I see His Blood. We learned this poem in my first month at secondary school and the words have never left me. In those days poetry was learned “off by heart”.
A number of years ago when I was part of the music ministry in our parish here in Edinburgh I set it to music and then we would use it every Good Friday.