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How the glory of your brow

is the light of our safe journeying!

The love of your eves

And the certainty of our arrival.

How glorious you are as Man; how helpless as God:

So helpless that you could not hide

your Godhood

Even behind the walls of your pain

How very Man you are.

How absolutely God.

Once more comes round the joyous Day of days,

And you, within our hearts, sing your own praise.

But what is praise unless good works are done?

And that means sacrifice of all that’s won.

Still is the Wine Shop shuttered and He sleeps

And leaves to each the sowing that He reaps.

Gives rise to our thin hopes and rich despair.

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