THE TRIUMPH OF CHRIST

Or sleep on silken cushions in the bower of wicked men? For if we walk together through the wet and windy weather, When I ride back home triumphant you will ride beside Me then."

Christ walks the world again, new-bound on high emprise, With music in His golden mouth and laughter in His eyes; The primrose springs before Him as He treads the dusty way, His singer's crown of thorn has burst in blossom like the may, He heedeth not the morrow and He never looks behind, Singing: "Glory to the open skies and peace to all mankind."

Singing: "Lady, lady, will you come away with Me? Was never man lived longer for the hoarding of his breath; Here be dragons to be slain, here be rich rewards to gain . . . If we perish in the seeking, . . . why, how small a thing is death!"

GOD met man in a narrow place,
And they scanned each other face to face.
God spoke first: "What ails you, man,
The you should look so pale and wan?"
Quoth man: "You bade me conquer harm
With no strength but this weak right arm.
"I would ride to war with a glad consent
Were I, as You, omnipotent."
God said: "You show but little sense;
What triumph is there for omnipotence?"
Said man: "If You think it well to be
Such a thing as I, make trial and see."
God answered him: "And if I do,
I'll prove Me a better Man than you."
God conquered man with His naked hands,
And bound him fast in iron bands.