3.
“Not as the world giveth, give I unto you.”
Then take Thou us beneath those sheltering wings,
Where God and Man at every bleeding pore
Hath open'd for our sins Thy pardon's door;
We touch, see, feel our God, while memory clings
To every part which meditation brings
Before us; thus the cup that floweth o'er
With these Thy sorrows is for evermore
The cup wherein our health and gladness springs.
The cup we give to Thee is deadly wine,
Made of the poisonous grapes our sins have borne;
Thou givest in return the cup Divine,
Full of Thy love; and for the thorny crown
We give to Thee, Thou givest to Thine own
Wreaths bright with radiance of celestial morn.
