When, on that day, with you I felt the flame Of sacrifice, endured the cross that stood A barrier between us, all of good Dropped from life's glowing hands. I held as shame If, while I worshiped there, I yet could blame That burning bush of beauty and the rood On which my hopes were nailed to die. (Such wood As flamed to ashes in my tortured frame.) Here do I swear that if, from out my life One day, nay, but one moment, might be left To hold forever, fully satisfied, Within my heart, -- a prize wrung from the strife; And I of all the rest be then bereft, -- I'd choose that day when I was crucified! |