Give us a virile Christ for these rough days! You painters, sculptors, show the warrior bold; And you who turn mere words to gleaming gold, Too long your lips have sounded in the praise Of patience and humility. Our ways Have parted from the quietude of old; We need a man of strength with us to hold The very breach of Death without amaze. Did he not scourge from temple courts the thieves? And make the arch-fiend's self again to fall? And blast the fig-tree that was only leaves? And still the raging tumult of the seas? Did he not bear the greatest pain of all, Silent, upon the cross on Calvary? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS THE UNKNOWN GOD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE TULIP AND THE LILY, SELECTION by JAMES BARCLAY MADMAN I HAVE BEEN CALLED by WILLIAM BLAKE ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT OF FIVE DAYS OLD by ELIZABETH BOYD |