JESUS—CHRIST

LAURA GERAHTY.

O Master , thou with the patient eyes
And the brow that bore and strove;
With the voice that ne'er a word conveyed
But was born of infinite Love;
Men say, as they pass on their way today,
Bending low neath the weight of care,
Could they touch thy hem that their silent grief
Would melt in the saintly air.
'Neath the fearsome depths of an angry sea,
'Midst the clouds of a storm-swept sky,
On the arid plains of discontent,
Or the sands where vultures cry,
In the chamber of sin with its casement barred
As close as the prison's gate—
Could they hear thy voice, then each thought would melt
That was born of fear or hate.

Ah, radiant Christ, the Christ of God,
Great Truth that cannot fail.
The Life that reigns with strength supreme
Though a human heart may quail!
We can see thee now, through the mists and rain,
With a glimpse of immortal sight;
And we clasp thee close, and bathe our eyes
In the floods of Truth's great light.

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