REDEMPTION. 135
The hidden life, nor fruitless then, nor vain, But rich in grace, resorbs the dews of heaven, The virtues racemous to fructify.
These bright in Jesus shone, whom Nazareth Detain'd, as he in grace and stature grew, Favour with God and man, and strong to cope (According to the flesh, essential who Nor growth nor increase knew,) with mortal foe, And that stupendous toil, 'neath which at last, Midst sweat and blood, with load of guilt weigh' d down, Guilt not his own, who knew no sin, he sank. Erect and broad his spacious shoulders spread, Tall rose his frame, and rounded stood his limbs, With beauty molded, as for grace and strength, Not femininely soft, yet scarce less fair. His lofty brow with manly locks were curl'd, Which wave o'er wave profusely backward roll'd In clusters, resting on his polished neck, And barely to his ample shoulders fell. Thought sat supreme though placid on his front, Wisdom profound controll'd his active thoughts, And spoke him fit for empire, lordly sway, Yet tender, gentle, kind, to rule all hearts More by the soothing influ'nces than fear. The ruddy glow of manhood's prime suffused His cheeks; his eye was hazel, large, but mild As hers, who call'd the Godlike Man her Son ; Grave in his aspect, grave but not severe, With easy smile curving his rubied lips ; But ne'er to laughter given, though with tears His eyes not seldom running o'er, to find The world so woe-begone, so wretched, lost,
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