我在教堂,你出生在地球上的天使ng to men, While thy stars made mirth, Saviour, at thy birth, This day born again; As this night was bright With thy cradle-ray, Very light of light, Turn the wild world's night To thy perfect day. God whose feet made sweet Those wild ways they trod, From thy fragrant feet Staining field and street With the blood of God; God whose breast is rest In the time of strife, In thy secret breast Sheltering souls opprest From the heat of life; God whose eyes are skies Love-lit as with spheres By the lights that rise To thy watching eyes, Orbed lights of tears; God whose heart hath part In all grief that is, Was not man's the dart That went through thine heart, And the wound not his? Where the pale souls wail, Held in bonds of death, Where all spirits quail, Came thy Godhead pale Still from human breath - Pale from life and strife, Wan with manhood, came Forth of mortal life, Pierced as with a knife, Scarred as with a flame. Thou the Word and Lord In all time and space Heard, beheld, adored, With all ages poured Forth before thy face, Lord, what worth in earth Drew thee down to die? What therein was worth, Lord, thy death and birth? What beneath thy sky? Light above all love By thy love was lit, And brought down the Dove Feathered from above With the wings of it. From the height of night, Was not thine the star That led forth with might By no worldly light Wise men from afar? Yet the wise men's eyes Saw thee not more clear Than they saw thee rise Who in shepherd's guise Drew as poor men near. Yet thy poor endure, And are with us yet; Be thy name a sure Refuge for thy poor Whom men's eyes forget. Thou whose ways we praised, Clear alike and dark, Keep our works and ways This and all thy days Safe inside thine ark. Who shall keep thy sheep, Lord, and lose not one? Who save one shall keep, Lest the shepherds sleep? Who beside the Son? From the grave-deep wave, From the sword and flame, Thou, even thou, shalt save Souls of king and slave Only by thy Name. Light not born with morn Or her fires above, Jesus virgin-born, Held of men in scorn, Turn their scorn to love. Thou whose face gives grace As the sun's doth heat, Let thy sunbright face Lighten time and space Here beneath thy feet. Bid our peace increase, Thou that madest morn; Bid oppressions cease; Bid the night be peace; Bid the day be born. II--OUTSIDE CHURCH We whose days and ways All the night makes dark, What day shall we praise Of these weary days That our life-drops mark? We whose mind is blind, Fed with hope of nought; Wastes of worn mankind, Without heart or mind, Without meat or thought; We with strife of life Worn till all life cease, Want, a whetted knife, Sharpening strife on strife, How should we love peace? Ye whose meat is sweet And your wine-cup red, Us beneath your feet Hunger grinds as wheat, Grinds to make you bread. Ye whose night is bright With soft rest and heat, Clothed like day with light, Us the naked night Slays from street to street. Hath your God no rod, That ye tread so light? Man on us as God, God as man hath trod, Trod us down with might. We that one by one Bleed from either's rod. What for us hath done Man beneath the sun, What for us hath God? We whose blood is food Given your wealth to feed, From the Christless rood Red with no God's blood, But with man's indeed; How shall we that see Nightlong overhead Life, the flowerless tree, Nailed whereon as we Were our fathers dead - We whose ear can hear, Not whose tongue can name, Famine, ignorance, fear, Bleeding tear by tear Year by year of shame, Till the dry life die Out of bloodless breast, Out of beamless eye, Out of mouths that cry Till death feed with rest - How shall we as ye, Though ye bid us, pray? Though ye call, can we Hear you call, or see, Though ye show us day? We whose name is shame, We whose souls walk bare, Shall we call the same God as ye by name, Teach our lips your prayer? God, forgive and give, For His sake who died? Nay, for ours who live, How shall we forgive Thee, then, on our side? We whose right to light Heaven's high noon denies, Whom the blind beams smite That for you shine bright, And but burn our eyes, With what dreams of beams Shall we build up day, At what sourceles