Since God’s dear Son came down to earth and died
In bloodshed, and the darkness of clouds that groaned aghast;
With pierced hands and a great wound in His side.
It is not in my heart to hate the pleasant sins I leave.
Earth’s passion flames within me fierce and strong.
But this is like a shadow ever rising up to thieve
Sin’s pleasures, and the lure of every pattern lust can weave,
And charm of all things that can do Him wrong.
THE BUGLER
God dreamed a man;