Christ, Come Again

REUBEN POGSON.

It is true, then, that Thou dost come
As in that age, remote and past,
When stormy seas and strident blast
Were trodden down and driven dumb?

It is true, then, that thou dost speak
In love's pure language, low and sweet,
As in her home, when at thy feet
Meek Mary sat, truth to seek?

It is true, then, that thou dost heal,
With e'en the same compassionate touch
As when the leper's feeble clutch
On truth made thee thy love reveal?

O ye who feel the leprous taint
Still in your veins through fleshly birth;
Or ye who, rich in worldly worth,
Are famished and with hunger faint;

Ye Magdalens of either sex,
And modern scribe and Pharisee,
Stand still, and look! Across the sea
Of grievous woes which man perplex,

Comes Christ again, without the form
Of flesh and blood. With purity,
And Love's unlabored majesty,
He dissipates the sin-sick storm.

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