Oh, then the second birth of soul begins,
That purifies the base, the dark illumes,
And binds our being with a holy spell,
Whereby each function, faculty, and thought
Surrenders meekly to the central guide
Of hope and action, by a God empower'd.
THE CRUCIFIXION.
A God with all his glory laid aside,
Behold Him bleeding,—on his awful brow
The mingled sorrows of a world repose—