This Friday is Good Friday, of course. Here is an Irish poem (as translated by Douglas Hyde) for the most solemn day of the Christian calendar — to be followed soon by the most joyous, Easter Sunday.
O King of the Friday
Whose limbs were stretched on the cross,
O thou who did suffer
The bruises, the wounds, the loss,
We stretch ourselves
Beneath the shield of thy might,
Some fruit from the tree of thy passion
Fall on us this night.