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.