But chiefly Thou,
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die.
In those holy fields.
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter cross.
And on his brest a bloodie crosse he tore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore.
Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean;
The world has grown gray from thy breath;
We have drunken from things Lethean,
And fed on the fullness of death.
Swinburne—Hymn to Proserpine.
And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness of perfect deeds,
More strong than all poetic thoughts;
Which he may read that binds the sheaf,
Or builds the house, or digs the grave,
And those wild eyes that watch the waves
In roarings round the coral reef.
His love at once and dread instruct our thought;
As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.
CHRISTIANITY
Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded.
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
His Christianity was muscular.
A Christian is God Almighty's gentleman.
Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
No fear lest he should swerve or faint;
"His life is Christ, his death is gain."
Now it is not good for the Christian's health
To hustle the Aryan brown,
For the Christian riles and the Aryan smiles, and
it weareth the Christian down.
And the end of the fight is a tombstone white
With the name of the late deceased—
And the epitaph drear: "A fool lies here
Who tried to hustle the East."
What was invented two thousand years ago was the spirit of Christianity.
Servant of God, well done, well hast thou fought
The better fight.
Persons of mean understandings, not so inquisitive, nor so well instructed, are made good Christians, and by reverence and obedience, implicitly believe, and abide by their belief.
Yes,—rather plunge me back in pagan night,
And take my chance with Socrates for bliss,
Than be the Christian of a faith like this,
Which builds on heavenly cant its earthly sway,
And in a convert mourns to lose a prey.
Tolle crucem, qui vis auferre coronam.
Take up the cross if thou the crown would'st gain.
Yet still a sad, good Christian at the heart.
You are Christians of the best edition, all picked and culled.
Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms.
O father Abram, what these Christians are,
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others.
The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.
My daughter! O, my ducats! O, my daughter!
Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats.
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian and thy loving wife.
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.
For in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the price of pork.
