Psalm 51:1-18 / Philippians 3:1-4 / John 12:9-19

I wake and feel the fell* of dark, not day,
    What hours, O what black hours we have spent
    This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
    Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
    Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.

I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
    Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
    As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.

— Gerard Manley Hopkins (1884-1889)

*fell: pelt, an animal's skin; also gall, bitterness.