Poem of the Week LXVIII

Shared with me by my sweet friend Grace. I don't know the title.

by Michelangelo Buonarroti

With a vexatious heavy load put down,
O my dear Lord, and from the world set free,
I like a fragile craft turn to You, weary,
From fearful tempest into gentle calm

The thorns and nails, the left and the right palm,
Your face, benign, humble, and filled with pity.
Pledge that for great repentance there is mercy,
To the sad soul give hope You will redeem.

Let not your holy eyes with justice watch
My past, and let not your immaculate ear
Make your unsparing arm stretch out to it,

Only your blood my trespass wash or touch
And more abound as my old age grows more,
With ready aid and pardon absolute.