How many more must I hold?
 How many will it be when all is told?
  
 Each day I am hacked with pick and spade
 How long until all is remade?
  
 I am weary with holding the seeds of souls
 Why must I contain the decay of that which is immortal?
  
 Yet, I remember this
 The day my burden was heaviest
  
 When the voice that brought me into being
 Within me ceased breathing
  
 When the fingers that formed me
 Were within me buried
  
 When upon me was resting
 The One who would break the curse; Him, the promised blessing

My greatest sorrow, crucifixion
Turned to greatest joy, resurrection 
  
 I could not hold Him
 Nor shall I hold those in Him