Suffering

Like as a woman in pain
Convulsant with expectancy
Bears gladly the agony,
Counts little the anguish,
So writhed your flesh On Calvary’s Cross.
  
I cannot understand—
Who fear the suffering,
Who turn my face from pain
And burn with shame
When comes the agony—
Pain’s purposefulness.
  
One thing I know,
For this my heart cries out to me:
There cannot be true destiny,
True haven’s goal without
The sorrow of the Cross,
Else wounding is eternal.
  
This thing I know,
When I am called to suffer pain:
That had he suffered not I suffer sore,
But since he suffered deep
Pain really is no more.
  
Into pain’s depth he plunged
As never man before,
Taking the sting unto himself,
Denuding pain of agony,
Giving the senseless sense
And useful reality.

From The Spirit of All Things, by Geoffrey Bingham, pp.56-57