Near, so very near to God,
Nearer I cannot be;
For in the person of his Son
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Near, so very near to God,
Nearer I cannot be;
For in the person of his Son
I am as near as he.
So dear, so very dear to God,
More dear I cannot be;
The love wherewith he loves the Son -
Such is his love to me.

Thou hast conquered, O Galilaean.
[Lat., Vicisti, Galloloae.]

Thou hast conquered, O Galilaean.
[Lat., Vicisti, Galloloae.]

A pagan heart, a Christian soul had he.
He followed Christ, yet for dead Pan he sighed,
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A pagan heart, a Christian soul had he.
He followed Christ, yet for dead Pan he sighed,
As if Theocritus in Sicily
Had come upon the Figure crucified,
And lost his gods in deep, Christ-given rest.

All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights
to dwell, His visits there are frequent, read more

All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights
to dwell, His visits there are frequent, His conversation sweet,
His comforts refreshing; and His peace passing all understanding.

God never gave man a thing to do concerning which it were
irreverent to ponder how the Son of read more

God never gave man a thing to do concerning which it were
irreverent to ponder how the Son of God would have done it.

Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power,
He on the thought-benighted read more

Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power,
He on the thought-benighted Skeptic beamed
Manifest Godhead.

And Jesus saith unto him, The foxes have holes, and the birds of
the air have nests; but the read more

And Jesus saith unto him, The foxes have holes, and the birds of
the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his
head.

There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified
read more

There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified
Who died to save us all.

Hail, O bleeding Head and wounded,
With a crown of thorns surrounded,
Buffeted, and bruised and battered,
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Hail, O bleeding Head and wounded,
With a crown of thorns surrounded,
Buffeted, and bruised and battered,
Smote with reed by striking shattered,
Face with spittle vilely smeared!
Hail, whose visage sweet and comely,
Marred by fouling stains and homely,
Changed as to its blooming color,
All now turned to deathly pallor,
Making heavenly hosts affeared!