A pagan heart, a Christian soul had he.
He followed Christ, yet for dead Pan he sighed,
read more

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.

Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power,
He on the thought-benighted read more

Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power,
He on the thought-benighted Skeptic beamed
Manifest Godhead.

Near, so very near to God,
Nearer I cannot be;
For in the person of his Son
read more

Near, so very near to God,
Nearer I cannot be;
For in the person of his Son
I am as near as he.
So dear, so very dear to God,
More dear I cannot be;
The love wherewith he loves the Son -
Such is his love to me.

There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified
read more

There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified
Who died to save us all.

But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach read more

But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die.

Who did leave His Father's throne,
To assume thy flesh and bone?
Had He life, or had read more

Who did leave His Father's throne,
To assume thy flesh and bone?
Had He life, or had He none?
If he had not liv'd for thee,
Thou hadst died most wretchedly
And two deaths had been thy fee.

In every pang that rends the heart
The Man of Sorrows had a part.

In every pang that rends the heart
The Man of Sorrows had a part.

The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.

The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.

Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ--
Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
read more

Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ--
Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engaged to fight--
Fourthwith a power of English shall we levy,
Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb
To chase these pagans in those holy fields
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed
For our advantage on the bitter cross.