I was a stricken deer, that left the herd
Long since; with many an arrow, deep infixed,
My panting side was charged, when I withdrew
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades.
There I was found by One who had Himself
Been hurt by the archers. In His side He bore-
And in His hands and feet – the cruel scars.
With gentle force soliciting the darts,
He drew them forth, and healed, and bade me live.