Classic Poem

UPON THE BLEEDING CRUCIFIX A SONG .

I .

Jesu, no more! It is full tide.
From thy head and from thy feet,
From thy hands and from thy side
All the purple Rivers meet.

II .

What need thy fair head bear a part
In showres, as if thine eyes had none?
What need They help to drown thy heart,
That strives in torrents of it's own?

III .

Thy restlesse feet now cannot goe
For us and our eternall good,
As they were ever wont. What though?
They swimme. Alas, in their own floud.

IV .

Thy hands to give, thou canst not lift;
Yet will thy hand still giving be.
It gives but o, it self's the gift.
It gives though bound; though bound 'tis free.

V .

But o thy side, thy deep-digg'd side!
That hath a double Nilus going.
Nor ever was the pharian tide
Half so fruitfull, half so flowing.

VI .

No hair so small, but payes his river
To this red sea of thy blood
Their little channells can deliver
Somthing to the Generall floud.

VII .

But while I speak, whither are run
All the rivers nam'd before?
I counted wrong. There is but one;
But o that one is one all ore.

VIII .

Rain-swoln rivers may rise proud,
Bent all to drown and overflow.
But when indeed all's overflow'd
They themselves are drowned too.

IX .

This thy blood's deluge, a dire chance
Dear Lord to thee, to us is found
A deluge of Deliverance;
A deluge least we should be drown'd.

N'ere wast thou in a sense so sadly true,
The W ELL of living W ATERS , Lord, till now.