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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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.
Every pang that rends the heart.
Every pang that rends the heart.
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.
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.
Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee
A lesson of humanity:
To every mother's heart forlorn,
read more
Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee
A lesson of humanity:
To every mother's heart forlorn,
In every house the Christ is born.
Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean;
The world has grown gray from thy breath;
We have drunken read more
Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean;
The world has grown gray from thy breath;
We have drunken from things Lethean,
And fed on the fullness of death.
The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.
The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.
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.
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!
