The Living Christ

Where is the living Christ
Toiler unparadised,
Love’s martyr sacrificed,
   Tortured and slain?
Dying, yet unsubdued,
Rising in life renewed,
All where the ages rude
   Smite Him in vain!

Down through millenniums
Still the Redeemer comes,
Hallowed by martyrdoms,
   Bleeding and pale.
Ay, a life spirit-born
Flung on a hope forlorn,
Scorning a people’s scorn,
   Never can fail!

Where shall we seek for Him?
Deep in cathedrals dim,
Where the dun vapors swim
   O’er the dank aisles?
There? or in palaces
Lapped in Sionian ease,
Dandled on Fortune’s knees,
   Sunned in her smiles?

Will He not come again,
Walking with lowly men,
Regally poor, as when
   Born in Judea?
Wielding the axe and saw,
True to the living Law,
Rearing, in love and awe,
Truth’s temple here?

Yea, in the toilers’ cot,
Sharing their humble lot,
E’en though they know it not,
   Lowly He lives!
Soothing their many cares,
Blessing them unawares,
LOVE is the name He bears,
Deep peace He gives.

Oft, where a richer fold
Glitters with silk and gold,
May ye His star behold,
   Pure as in heaven,
While from a diamonded
White hand is hunger fed,
Nakedness garmented,
   Love’s welcome given!

Genius of every clime,
Born in recurrent time,
Leading a life sublime,
   Soul unenticed,
Strives in our nobler strife,
Lives in our better life,
Lives in true man and wife,
   Lo, the live Christ!