Vision of the Wounds
by VP
Posted on Friday February 27, 2026 at 12:00AM in Poetry
Visions of the Wounds
Two Hands have haunted me for days,
Two Hands of slender shape
All crushed and torn, as in the press
is bruised the purple grape;
At work or meals Palms I see;
And a plaintive Voice keeps whispering,
"These Hands were pierced for thee."
For me, sweet Lord, for me?
"Yea, even so, ungrateful thing.
These Hands were pierced for thee!"
Thro' toils and dangers pressing on,
as thro' a fiery flood,
Two slender Feet, beside mine own,
Mark every step with blood.
The swollen veins so rent with nails,
It breaks my heart to see;
While the same sad Voice cries out afresh:
"These Feet were pierce for thee."
For me, dear Christ, for me?
"Yea, even so, rebellious flesh.
These Feet were pierced for thee!"
As on they journey to the close,
Those wounded Feet and mine,
Distincter still the Vision grows,
And more and more divine;
For in my Guide's wide-open Side,
The cloven Heart I see,
And the tender Voice is moved to moan:
"This Heart was pierce for thee."
For me, great God, for me?
"Yea, enter in, My Love, Mine own,
This Heart was pierced for thee!"
Eleanor C. Donnelly (1838-1917)
Our Young People, Volume 40, No 2 Feb 1931
