Classic Poem

Behold, in Flower of Manhood, the True Vine
To full perfection grown from a dry ground;
Grace in his eyes and lips, he looks around
Where bride and bridegroom at the feast recline:
He hears the whisper. " Son, they have no wine" —
When lo, as if ripe clusters had been found
And sudden crushed, the purple streams abound
To prove the Branch that yielded them divine.
Oh, happy thought for bridegroom and for bride
In after ages, 'mid their innocent mirth,
That by his presence Jesus beautified
A marriage-feast, blessing all homes of earth,
Upon whose walls the fruitful vines are seen
With hopeful clusters smiling through the green.