OUR flesh that was a battle-ground Shows now the morning-break; The ancient deities are downed For thy eternal sake. Now that the past is left behind, Fling wide Thy garment's hem, That we stay one with Thee in mind, O Christ of Bethlehem! The thorny wreath may ridge our brow, The spear may mar our side, And on white wood from a scented bough We may be crucified; Yet no assault the old gods make Upon our agony Shall swerve our footsteps from the wake Of Thine, toward Calvary. And if we hunger now and thirst, Grant our withholders may, When heaven's constellations burst Upon Thy crowning day, Be fed by us—, and given to see Thy mercy in our eyes, When Bethlehem and Calvary Are merged in Paradise. |