By: Joseph Mary Plunkett
I
see His Blood upon the rose
And
in the stars the glory of His eyes,
His
Body gleams amid eternal snows,
His
tears fall from the skies.
I
see His face in every flower;
The
thunder and the singing of the birds
Are
but His voice – and carven by His power
Rocks
are His written words.
All
pathways by His feet are worn,
His
strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His
crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His
cross is every tree.
No comments:
Post a Comment