Good Friday

RED-ROBIN OF
GOOD FRIDAY NOON

I sat upon my back porch step,
One dark, Good Friday noon,
And saw a robin red-breast rest,
To sing a soft, sad tune.

The melody, it brought me tears,
As damp, cool winds blew by.
My soul, it felt the stab of spears...
My sins, that made Him die.

But robin of Good Friday noon,
Your blood-red breast reminds...
That we must stop...confess our sins,
Now death...she holds no binds.

And when on dark, Good Friday noons,
Red-breasted robin sings,
Confess your sins at Sacrament
And sprout red-robin wings.