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.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Near, so very near to God,
Nearer I cannot be;
For in the person of his Son
read more
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.
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.
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.
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.
The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.
The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.
Thou hast conquered, O Galilaean.
[Lat., Vicisti, Galloloae.]
Thou hast conquered, O Galilaean.
[Lat., Vicisti, Galloloae.]
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.
Christ beside me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ
within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me.
Christ beside me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ
within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me.
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!
