The thronging multitudes increase ; Then saith the Christ, as silent stands The crowd, "What wilt thou at my hands?" Rabbi, restore the blind man's sight!" Η πίστις σου σέσωκέ σε Ye that have eyes, yet cannot see, In darkness and in misery, Recall those mighty Voices Three, ̓Ιησοῦ, ἐλέησόν με ! THE GOBLET OF LIFE. FILLED is Life's goblet to the brim ; With solemn voice and slow. No purple flowers, no garlands green, Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen, Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene, Like gleams of sunshine, flash between Thick leaves of misletoe. This goblet, wrought with curious art, When the deep fountains of the heart, And as it mantling passes round, Above the lowly plants it towers, The fennel, with its yellow flowers, And in an earlier age than ours Was gifted with the wondrous powers, Lost vision to restore. P It gave new strength, and fearless mood; And he who battled and subdued, Then in Life's goblet freely press, The leaves that give it bitterness, New light and strength they give! And he who has not learned to know He has not learned to live. The prayer of Ajax was for light; Through all that dark and desperate fight, The blackness of that noonday night, He asked but the return of sight, To see his foeman's face. Let our unceasing, earnest prayer That crushes into dumb despair One half the human race. O suffering, sad humanity! Patient, though sorely tried! |