"The Love of Christ which Passeth Knowledge"

I bore with thee long weary days and nights,Through many pangs of heart, through many tears;I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,For three and thirty years.

Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above;I not my flesh, I not my spirit spared:Give thou Me love for love.

For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,For thee I trembled in the nightly frost:Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:Why wilt thou still be lost?

I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced':Men only marked upon My shoulders borneThe branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,Or wagged their heads in scorn.

Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy nameDid thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes:I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame;I, God, Priest, Sacrifice.

A thief upon My right hand and My left;Six hours alone, athirst, in misery:At length in death one smote My heart and cleftA hiding-place for thee.

Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of downMore dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep:So did I win a kingdom, share My crown;A harvest,—come and reap.