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?
