  FINE, jealous, in suspicion as a child, In jealousy more infinitely wild, Forth to us from Thy Father Thou didst come: Now to Thy Father in His home Ascend—to the Beginning and the Dawn! Pass to the East, New-born our priest— The East, And where the rose is born! O Heaven of Heavens, as no sea is clear, O Eastern Gate of Waters, with a spear Day rings you wide for Christ to be released! He passes free from Earth, our priest Forth to His Shrine: our love, grown tense, Would follow Him, Through Seraphim Lost dim, His servers who incense. |
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