Broods over us, shall thou and I be borne,
And laid amid our fathers in the Faith,
Sleep the good sleep of immortality.
Not one small tress of ours shall reverence save;
No fragment of our interchangèd garb
Be shrined forever, nor ascetic lips
Embrace, in our carved names, the Crucified.
God’s Will be done, and done with all accord
In all! and may He grant that unto thee,
(Who art both more and less than neophyte,)