The Great War

from Late Songs, an electronic edition

In Thy Likeness

Now those who would and who would not

Must drink Thy bitter Cup.

No angels in their garden plot

Their heads have lifted up.

They have been scourged and been stripped bare

As Thou wast long ago:

The bloodied thorns are in their hair,

Pressed deep as Thou didst know.

They have toiled up Thy Calvary hill

And fainted 'neath their load:

With a good will or an ill will

Have taken the whip, the goad.

And they with Thee are crucified

Whether they will or no:

Now bid to left side and right side

Thy healing mercies flow.

Yea, when Thou dost commend Thy Sprite

And the Third Hour has struck,

Summon from left hand and from right

Thy black and Thy white flock!

On these, on those, Thy judgments fell.

They died because they must.

Give them Thy Eastertide as well

And New Life from the dust.

When with Ascension Thou dost rise

Shall these not rise and go,

To find once more the Paradise

They lost so long ago?