In Paradise this night, this night, with Me.”
. . . . . . . .
O Christ, the King!
We also wander on the desert-hills,
Though haunted by Thy call, returning sweet
At morn and eve. We will not come to Thee
Till Thou hast nailed us to some bitter cross,
And made us look on Thine, and driven at last
To call on Thee with trembling and with tears.—
Thou lookest down in love, upbraiding not,