"The Love of Christ Which Passeth Knowledge."

I bore with thee long weary days and nights,          Through many pangs of heart, through many tears; I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,          For three and thirty years. Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?          I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above; I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared:          Give thou Me love for love. For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,          For thee I trembled in the nightly frost: Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:          Why wilt thou still be lost? I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced:          Men only marked upon My shoulders borne The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,          Or wagged their heads in scorn. Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name          Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes: I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame;          I, God, Priest, Sacrifice. A thief upon My right hand and My left;          Six hours alone, athirst, in misery: At length in death one smote My heart and cleft          A hiding-place for thee. Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down          More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep: So did I win a kingdom,--share My crown;          A harvest,--come and reap.