A nun's clasped hands at feet of clay
exalt a love divine
with piety no more abject
than what I make to mine.
Idle her idolatry, less tried
in profane view;
her Christ so much less tenderly
unmerciful than you!
For in all truth, religiously
I worship you, my muse:
whom I adore, adorned with thorns,
the source of all abuse:
So rising, after 3 days,
and pushing back the stone,
you overturn what was my faith
and nail me to the bone!