TO CHRIST
              CRUCIFIED

I am not moved to love you, O my Lord,
By promises of Heaven's recompense,
Nor moved to cease my causing you offence
By ceaseless dread of Hell's condign reward.

You move me, Lord; I'm moved to see your breath
Hammered to a cross, and ruthlessly derided;
I'm moved to see your body badly grided,
The shame and scorn you shoulder; and your death.

I'm moved, well, by your love, to love you so,
That I should love you, shone no light above;
And I should fear you, stormed no flames below.

You do not have to give to have my love;
Had I no move to hope as I now do,
As I now love, so would I still love you.