Sonnet: Good Friday.
Behold the highest Good! there on the cross
'Tis pictured on a canvas so sublime
That God's own thought, conceived before all time,
Is fitly told; the universe at loss
To fathom it, its mighty forces toss
In darkened struggles that do wildly chime
In thund'rous mutt'rings with the monstrous crime
That man conceives; yet all the varied dross