Thou the shame, the grief hast known; Though the sins were not Thine own, Thou hast deigned their load to bear: Gracious Son of Mary, hear! HENRY HART MILMAN. THE DEAD CHRIST. TAKE the dead Christ to my chamber- Over all the tossing ocean, He has reached His western home: Bear Him as in procession, And lay Him solemnly Where, through weary night and morning, He shall bear me company. The name I bear is other Than that I bore by birth; And I've given life to children Who'll grow and dwell on earth; But the time comes swiftly towards meNor do I bid it stay When the dead Christ will be more to me Than all I hold to-day. Lay the dead Christ beside me— I would hold Him long and painfully, Heal me of self and sin, And the cold weight press wholly down The pulse that chokes within. Reproof and frost, they fret me; Towards the free, the sunny lands, From the chaos of existence, I stretch these feeble hands And, penitential, kneeling, Pray God would not be wroth, Who gave not the strength of feeling And strength of labor both. Thou 'rt but a wooden carving, Yet more to me Thou couldst not be In Lebanon my lonely home I made; I heard the wind among the cedars roar, A HYMN. DROP, drop, slow tears, ANONYMOUS. And bathe those beauteous feet His mercies to entreat! To cry for vengeance Sin doth never cease; In your deep floods Drown all my faults and fears; Nor let His eye See sin, but through my tears. PHINEAS FLETCHES |