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42
VI
The Messenger returned
And glorious burned
With glory not his own
Beside the Throne.
And glorious burned
With glory not his own
Beside the Throne.
“How fares my world?” God said.
He bowed his head.
“Love they the Son I lent?”
He lower bent.
“Worship the Crucified?”
The Angel sighed.
“Honour the Law He kept?”
The Angel wept.
“Thy speechlessness,” said God,
“Is like a rod.
Almost I wish my Son
Elsewhere had gone;
For children of the dust
Reproach my trust.
Too long have they denied
His broken side
A balm; they use each year
That traitor spear;
They write above His head
A mock, instead
Of kneeling to accept
The tears He wept;
But still His shining love
Endures above
All follies and all sins,
And, therefore, wins.”
He bowed his head.
“Love they the Son I lent?”
He lower bent.
“Worship the Crucified?”
The Angel sighed.
“Honour the Law He kept?”
The Angel wept.
“Thy speechlessness,” said God,
“Is like a rod.
Almost I wish my Son
Elsewhere had gone;
For children of the dust
Reproach my trust.
Too long have they denied
His broken side
A balm; they use each year
43
They write above His head
A mock, instead
Of kneeling to accept
The tears He wept;
But still His shining love
Endures above
All follies and all sins,
And, therefore, wins.”
“My only Son, draw near
To us and hear.
Hast thou the heart to go
Again below,
To tread afresh for Me
Gethsemane,
And stretch Thyself in loss
Upon the Cross
In mortal bitterness?”
To us and hear.
Hast thou the heart to go
Again below,
To tread afresh for Me
Gethsemane,
And stretch Thyself in loss
Upon the Cross
In mortal bitterness?”
Christ answered, Yes.
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