Christina Rosetti always says it well.
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross,
To number drop by drop thy blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women, loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the sun and moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky.
A horror of great darkness at broad noon—
I, only I.
Yet give not o’er
But seek thy sheep, true shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.