Who would have imagined
the bride price you were willing to pay,
drop by drop,
your own heart's blood,
spilled out,
a libation
spilled in pain,
sorrow,
triumph.
O Sacred Heart,
A lover's heart,
big enough to love the whole world,
with all its griefs,
and evils,
and sorrows,
and not turn away
in despair or disgust!
O Sacred Heart,
Source of all consolations,
you who would heal our every wound
through having been wounded for love of us,
and giving what we have no right to demand,
Bridegroom of a most unworthy bride
whom you clothe in dazzling white linen
woven from your own true love,
glory to you!
Suspended in that place
where heaven and earth meet,
an offering of
love unfathomable,
marked by the red liquid of life
given up in sacrifice.
You wait there,
feeling the life you give
ebb away drop by drop,
throb by throb,
swallowed up
by others' sin,
you,
both scapegoat
and sacrifice,
a poem of love,
a sign of contradition,
Lord.