How just it was that Thou our Judge shouldst learn
The force of taunts that goad us into sin,
And slowly aureoled perfection win
Through blackened hopes, and through the stripes that burn.
Thou who didst steel thy will to impotence,
And wouldst not save Thyself, or take control
Of force, make us so dead that we may live.
Thou God of sorrows, wash our penitence,
Thou who wast naked, help each smitten soul,
Christ strong to suffer, stronger to forgive.
XLIII
CALVARY
As some weak bird, tossed homeward by the gale,
Is safely nested in the rocky scar
That cleaves the curving beach, but hears afar
The ocean writhing at the tempest’s flail,
So thou, my soul, hast reached the refuge hill
That Pilate made a pleasance for his jest,
And in Christ’s rose-red side hast found a rest,
Borne half by passion, yet by conscious will.
O Lord, whose spirit waged so hard a fight,
Scorn not the tainted thing beside thy heart
As too unfit to feel that sacred glow;
But lest I ere forget how much I owe,
Let not the vision utterly depart
Of frenzied storm and all-engulfing night.
XLIV
“THE DESERT SHALL BLOSSOM”
Long, long ago He died, and yet He is not dead;
From out His riven side and patient hands that bled
Flows one unebbing tide, by love and pity fed.