« ZurückWeiter »
Oh Holiest! to this world of sin and gloom, Not in Thy dread omnipotent array ;
And not by thunders strew'd
Was Thy tempestuous road;
But Thee, a soft and naked child,
The heavens were not commanded to prepare
Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthronèd fires on
Came wandering from afar,
The Eastern Sages leading on
The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear
Bright harmony from every starry sphere ;
From all the cherub quires,
And seraphs? burning lyres
And when Thou didst depart, no car of flame
Nor visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes.
Nor didst Thou mount on high
From fatal Calvary
Nor o'er Thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake ;
A few dim hours of day
The world in darkness lay, Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless
While Thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
And when Thou didst arise, Thou didst not stand With devastation in Thy red right hand,
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew;
But Thou didst haste to meet
Thy mother's coming feet,
Then calmly, slowly, didst thou rise
“THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH
BORE with thee long weary days and nights,
tears ; I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,
For three and thirty years.
Who else had dared for thee what I have dared ?
I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above; I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared :
Give thou Me love for love.
For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,
For thee I trembled in the nightly frost: Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:
Why wilt thou still be lost ?