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William Blake

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?

Or wilt thou go ask the Mole:

Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?

Or Love in a golden bowl?

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noun

One who, or that which, accelerates.

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DEVOTIONAL PIECES.

54 lines
Christina Rossetti·1830–1894·Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood
THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE." I bore with thee long weary days and nights,Through many pangs of heart, through many tears;I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,For three and thirty years. Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above;I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared:Give thou Me love for love. For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,For thee I trembled in the nightly frost:Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth:Why wilt thou still be lost? I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced:Men only marked upon My shoulders borneThe branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,Or wagged their heads in scorn. Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy nameDid thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes:I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame;I, God, Priest, Sacrifice. A thief upon My right hand and My left;Six hours alone, athirst, in misery:At length in death one smote My heart and cleftA hiding-place for thee. Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of downMore dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep:So did I win a kingdom,--share My crown;A harvest,--come and reap. "A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK." I will accept thy will to do and be,Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,Thy will at least to love, that burns withinAnd thirsteth after Me:So will I render fruitful, blessing stillThe germs and small beginnings in thy heart,Because thy will cleaves to the better part.--Alas, I cannot will. Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receiveThe inner unseen longings of the soul;I guide them turning towards Me; I controlAnd charm hearts till they grieve:If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass,Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love;For I have power in earth and heaven above.--I cannot wish, alas! What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yetI still must strive to win thee and constrain:For thee I hung upon the cross in pain,How then can I forget?If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate,Nor choose, nor wish,--resign thyself, be stillTill I infuse love, hatred, longing, will.--I do not deprecate.