Jesus, whose lot with us was cast, Who saw it out, from first to last: Patient and fearless, tender, true, Carpenter, vagabond, felon, Jew: Whose humorous eye took in each phase Of full, rich life this world displays, Yet evermore kept fast in view The far-off goal it leads us to: Who, as your hour neared, did not fail— The world's fate trembling in the scale— With your half-hearted band to dine, And chat across the bread and wine: Then went out firm to face the end, Alone, without a single friend: Who felt, as your last words confessed, Wrung from a proud unflinching breast By hours of dull ignoble pain, Your whole life's fight was fought in vain: Would I could win and keep and feel That heart of love, that spirit of steel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DICK, ON HIS SIXTH BIRTHDAY by SARA TEASDALE LOW TIDE ON GRAND-PRE by BLISS CARMAN HERMES OF THE WAYS by HILDA DOOLITTLE SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 50 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE ITALICS ARE RICHARD GIFFORD'S by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE LETTER; EDWARD ROWLAND SILL, DIED FEBRUARY 27, 1887 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A COURTESAN'S BIRTHDAY by ROBERT AVRETT |