Poem by Richard Crashaw

Christ Crucified

THY restless feet now cannot go
   For us and our eternal good,
As they were ever wont. What though
   They swim, alas! in their own flood?

Thy hands to give Thou canst not lift,
   Yet will Thy hand still giving be;
It gives, but O, itself's the gift!
   It gives tho' bound, tho' bound 'tis free! 

1. Charitas Nimia; or, The Dear Bargain
2. On the Prodigal
3. In the Holy Nativity of our Lord
4. On Mr. G. Herbert's Book
5. On the Miracle of the Multiplied Loaves

Ella Wilcox Christ Crucified ("Now ere I slept, my prayer had been that I might see my way")

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