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.
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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.
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.
In every pang that rends the heart
The Man of Sorrows had a part.
In every pang that rends the heart
The Man of Sorrows had a part.
Who did leave His Father's throne,
To assume thy flesh and bone?
Had He life, or had read more
Who did leave His Father's throne,
To assume thy flesh and bone?
Had He life, or had He none?
If he had not liv'd for thee,
Thou hadst died most wretchedly
And two deaths had been thy fee.
Into the woods, my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent,
Into the woods my Master came,
read more
Into the woods, my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent,
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him,
When into the woods He came.
Thou hast conquered, O Galilaean.
[Lat., Vicisti, Galloloae.]
Thou hast conquered, O Galilaean.
[Lat., Vicisti, Galloloae.]
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.
