Maundy Thursday

Lamps burning low in the evening cold,
In an upper room they sit down to eat,
He washes clean their feet, love’s service told,
Before their betrayal which he must greet.
Ashen ecstasy, dying so to live,
His body’s fragments passed all around,
Even to the teeth of Judas they give
Their power, to judgement’s decree resound.
From his cup they drink, from this promised vine,
Of which they are branches that soon shall break,
They shall stand in need of redemption’s wine,
To wash them once more for love’s name’s sake.
It is time, into the garden of tears
To go, and consummate all brooding fears.

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