Every pang that rends the heart.

Every pang that rends the heart.

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.

And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness read more

And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness of perfect deeds,
More strong than all poetic thoughts;
Which he may read that binds the sheaf,
Or builds the house, or digs the grave,
And those wild eyes that watch the waves
In roarings round the coral reef.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.

The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.