Songs Old and New ... Collected Edition [by Elizabeth Charles] |
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THE OLD STONE CRUCIFIX AT ROMSEY ABBEY. |
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 | Songs Old and New |  |
67
THE OLD STONE CRUCIFIX AT ROMSEY ABBEY.
[_]
Its characteristic is an open hand, reaching down out of the clouds above the Cross. This is said to be unique.
It stands in a quiet corner
Close to the old church door
And by the common pathway,—
Appealing evermore.
Close to the old church door
And by the common pathway,—
Appealing evermore.
Low, that the dimmest vision
The features need not miss;
Low, that the lips of the children
May reach the feet to kiss.
The features need not miss;
Low, that the lips of the children
May reach the feet to kiss.
That humble, simple Image
Wrought by the hands of old,—
(Good hands which so many ages
Have helpless grown and cold,)
Wrought by the hands of old,—
(Good hands which so many ages
Have helpless grown and cold,)
That blessed, sacred Image
Born of the heart of old,
Which through the endless ages
Shall never more grow cold.
Born of the heart of old,
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Shall never more grow cold.
In the common stone rude carven
By no great artist's touch,—
Yet search the wide world over,
You will find no other such.
By no great artist's touch,—
Yet search the wide world over,
You will find no other such.
You may search the wide world over
From freezing to burning zone,
You will never find another
Quite like this only one.
From freezing to burning zone,
You will never find another
Quite like this only one.
Deep, deep the nails are driven
In the hands they crucified,
So deep you scarcely see them
But only the arms stretched wide,—
In the hands they crucified,
So deep you scarcely see them
But only the arms stretched wide,—
Wide, all God's will accepting,
Though it seem in lightnings hurled,
Wide as the sin HE beareth,
Wide to embrace the world.
Though it seem in lightnings hurled,
Wide as the sin HE beareth,
Wide to embrace the world.
And over the Head so weary,
Bowing itself to die,
An open Hand down reaching
Forth from the clouded sky.
Bowing itself to die,
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Forth from the clouded sky.
The torturers' hands have finished,
HIS hands are nailëd fast,—
“Into Thy hands My spirit,
Father, Thy hands!”—at last!
HIS hands are nailëd fast,—
“Into Thy hands My spirit,
Father, Thy hands!”—at last!
Lord, ere Thou call our spirit
Within Thy hands to be,
Give us some such dear likeness
To leave behind of Thee.
Within Thy hands to be,
Give us some such dear likeness
To leave behind of Thee.
A humble, simple Image
Cut in the common stone,
Poor, yet our best, we pray Thee
Our best and our very own.
Cut in the common stone,
Poor, yet our best, we pray Thee
Our best and our very own.
Good Lord! our hearts grow bolder,
We dare to ask much more,
Knowing, the more we ask Thee,
Thou art but pleased the more.
We dare to ask much more,
Knowing, the more we ask Thee,
Thou art but pleased the more.
Give us to be that Image,
By the common paths, like this;
Low, that the dimmest vision
The features may not miss;
Low, that the lips of the children
May reach to cling and kiss.
By the common paths, like this;
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The features may not miss;
Low, that the lips of the children
May reach to cling and kiss.
That the nails to the Cross which fix us
So deep in the wounds may hide,
That men see no more the anguish,
But only the arms stretched wide.
So deep in the wounds may hide,
That men see no more the anguish,
But only the arms stretched wide.
A humble, simple Image
Cut in the common stone;
Like Thee, yet like no other,
Because Thy very own.
Cut in the common stone;
Like Thee, yet like no other,
Because Thy very own.
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