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FLOWER AND MUSIC
Surely was not for thee,
Holy one! Son of God!
Yes, my Redeemer!
E’en this cup was thine!
Fond wailing voices call'd thy spirit back:
E’en 'midst the mighty thoughts
Of that last crowning hour;
E'en on thine awful way to victory,
Wildly they call'd thee back!
And weeping eyes of love
Unto thy heart's deep core,
Pierc'd thro' the folds of death's mysterious veil—
Sufferer! thou Son of Man!
Mother-tears were mingled
With thy costly blood-drops,
In the shadow of th' atoning cross;
And the friend, the faithful,
He that on thy bosom,
