A Passion Sunday reflection :

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A Passion Sunday reflection : Sunday 29 March 2020

Today is Passion Sunday. It is also the day the clocks spring forward. With the Coronavirus emergency deepening, I imagine we could understandably wish that the clocks would go forward three months and all this might be over!

Passion Sunday marks the time in Lent when it gets tougher. Jesus’ passion - his sacrifice for the world - is drawing closer and there is worse to come. The same feelings will be with us every time we listen to the news as numbers increase and people we know struggle. So it is worth remembering that Passion Sunday is so called because of God’s extreme love for humanity and all creation. We have a God who knows us and loves us and is prepared to give everything for us.

Those in love sing. Singing is in short supply at the moment with the cathedral closed and churches closed across the country. Not since 1208 has it been like this. Samuel Crossman’s great hymn speaks for us today. You know the tune, or can play it on the internet. But why not spend some time today reading the words slowly and carefully as a poem to yourself. It will help know Jesus’ passion for you.

The Very Revd Stephen Lake, Dean of Gloucester

My song is love unknown,
My Savior's love to me;
Love to the loveless shown,
That they might lovely be.
O who am I,
That for my sake
My Lord should take
Frail flesh, and die?

He came from His blest throne
Salvation to bestow;
But men made strange, and none
The longed-for Christ would know:
But oh, my Friend,
My Friend indeed,
Who at my need
His life did spend.

Sometimes they strew His way,
And His sweet praises sing;
Resounding all the day
Hosannas to their King:
Then "Crucify!"
Is all their breath,
And for His death
They thirst and cry.

They rise and needs will have
My dear Lord made away;
A murderer they save,
The Prince of life they slay.
Yet cheerful He
To suffering goes,
That He His foes
From thence might free.

Here might I stay and sing,
No story so divine;
Never was love, dear King,
Never was grief like Thine.
This is my Friend,
In whose sweet praise
I all my days
Could gladly spend


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