True Passion
True Passion, so sadly misunderstood,
As chasing desires selfish, carefree,
Rather than what it truly ought to be:
Suffering for the sake of something good.
It’s not a pleasure, though call it some would,
Nor a burning thrill, as others would see,
But bearing trials of a high degree,
Patiently, kindly, as much as one could.
A passionate man, in selfless fashion,
Endures all sorts of pains for what he loves;
And none else was greater than Your Passion,
Scourged, mocked, crowned with thorns, felled by hateful shoves,
You suffered cruel death with such compassion,
That our souls be cleansed and simple as doves.
As chasing desires selfish, carefree,
Rather than what it truly ought to be:
Suffering for the sake of something good.
It’s not a pleasure, though call it some would,
Nor a burning thrill, as others would see,
But bearing trials of a high degree,
Patiently, kindly, as much as one could.
A passionate man, in selfless fashion,
Endures all sorts of pains for what he loves;
And none else was greater than Your Passion,
Scourged, mocked, crowned with thorns, felled by hateful shoves,
You suffered cruel death with such compassion,
That our souls be cleansed and simple as doves.