Through forty days of mystic fast;
And through the earthquake, storm, and flame,
Thrilled to the still small voice at last;
And learned, when every hope looked dim,
That unknown thousands prayed with him!
Come, rest with Me on that stern bed
Whose tortures were endured for you;
Till faith and patience perfected,
There, where I triumphed, triumph too.
Who share the Paschal nail and thorn,