6.
“For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.”
But Self must first be kill'd by penitence,
And buried in the grave of healthful sorrow:
The suns that harbinger a golden morrow
Blend with the hues of blood, and goings hence
In darkness, and soft tears which clouds dispense.
'Tis only thus our sinful selves undoing
That aught in us is bred which finds renewing,
And may partake in Christ's Own innocence.
The seed must disappear in wintry bed
Ere it in the full harvest lifts its head,
When He Who bears the sickle shall descend,
Sitting on a white cloud. O wondrous end!
When Pharisee and Pilate, we and they
Before their Criminal stand on that day!
