Hail, O bleeding Head and wounded, With a crown of thorns surrounded, Buffeted, and bruised and battered, Smote with reed by striking shattered, Face with spittle vilely smeared! Hail, whose visage sweet and comely, Marred by fouling stains and homely, Changed as to its blooming color, All now turned to deathly pallor, Making heavenly hosts affeared! St. Bernard of ClairvauxPassion Hymn. Abraham Coles trans.
In every pang that rends the heart The Man of Sorrows had a part. Michael BruceGospel Sonnets. Christ Ascended. Attributed to John Logan, who issued the poems with emendations of his own. Every pang that rends the heart. See also GoldsmithThe Captivity.
A pagan heart, a Christian soul had he. He followed Christ, yet for dead Pan he sighed, As if Theocritus in Sicily Had come upon the Figure crucified, And lost his gods in deep, Christ-given rest. Maurice Francis EganMaurice de Gurin.
Who did leave His Fathers throne, To assume thy flesh and bone? Had He life, or had He none? If he had not livd for thee, Thou hadst died most wretchedly And two deaths had been thy fee. HerbertThe Church. Business.
Vicisti, Galliloæ. Thou hast conquered, O Galilæan. Attributed to Julian the Apostate. MontaigneEssays. Bk. II. Ch. XIX. Claim dismissed by German and French scholars. Emperor Justinian at the dedication of the Cathedral of St. Sophia, built on the plan of the Temple of Jerusalem, said: I have vanquished thee, O Solomon.
All His glory and beauty come from within, and there He delights to dwell, His visits there are frequent, His conversation sweet, His comforts refreshing; and His peace passing all understanding. Thomas à KempisImitation of Christ. Bk. II. Ch. I. Dibdins trans.
Into the woods, my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him, When into the woods He came. Sidney LanierA Ballad of Trees and the Master.
And so the Word had breath, and wrought With human hands the creed of creeds In loveliness of perfect deeds, More strong than all poetic thoughts; Which he may read that binds the sheaf, Or builds the house, or digs the grave, And those wild eyes that watch the waves In roarings round the coral reef. TennysonIn Memoriam. XXXVI.