In darkness there is no choice. It is light that enables us to
see the difference between things; and read more

In darkness there is no choice. It is light that enables us to
see the difference between things; and it is Christ that gives us
light.

Hail, O bleeding Head and wounded,
With a crown of thorns surrounded,
Buffeted, and bruised and battered,
read more

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!

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.

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.

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

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

But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach read more

But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die.

His love at once and dread instruct our thought;
As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.

His love at once and dread instruct our thought;
As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.

A pagan heart, a Christian soul had he.
He followed Christ, yet for dead Pan he sighed,
read more

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.

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For read more

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore.