  As earth, sad earth, thrusts many a gloomy cape Into the sea's bright colour and living glee, So do we strive to embay that mystery Which earthly hands must ever let escape; The Word we seek for is the golden shape That shall enshrine the Soul we cannot see, A temporal chalice of Eternity Purple with beating blood of the hallowed grape. Once was it wine and sacramental bread Whereby we knew the power that through Him smiled When, in one still small utterance, He hurled The Eternities beneath His feet and said With lips, O meek as any little child, Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world. |
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