How Christ Mourns over Man the Sinner

O MAN, I mourn for theeWho still wouldst fly from me,And I to save thee wait.

O Man, for thy soul's new birth,To set thy feet in the Way,I was incarnate on earth,Of Mary, the Virgin May:—And yet thou wilt not obey,Unthankful art thou to Me,Uncourteous and ingrate.

If I were a cruel lord,An evil master to thee,Well might'st thou then affordOut of My hands to flee;Foolish indeed must thou be,For on the good I do theeThou wilt not meditate.

All creatures my Hand hath made,To serve thee in sequence true;And all in order arrayed,Each one his duty to do;Pleasures before thee they strew,Yet Me, the Maker of all,Thou wilt not contemplate.

As a man may threaten a son,Beloved, but to error beguiled,With the Courts, where justice is done,To heal his folly so wild ;So have I threatened thee, child,With hell, and have promised thee glory,If thou wilt turn to Me straight.

Son, cease thy restless flight,For long was My love's pursuit ;I would give thee a world of light,I would save thee from error's fruit:From the judgment absolute,That thy soul could never answer,I would keep thee inviolate.

Then flee no longer in fear;O brother of Mine, so sweet!My Father summoned me here,To follow thy flying feet.Return, for love I entreat!For all His court awaits theeIn joys that are uncreate.

I was sent from My Father's throne,To summon thee to His court ;Is thy heart as hard as a stone?Untouched by love of such sort?O brother, yield up thy fort!Cast off thine ingratitude,That hath crushed Me with its weight.

My pilgrimage on earthFor thee was cruel and hard:Dearly I bought thy worth ;See My hands that are scarred!Keep not back My reward,Brother, for great was the priceWhereby I enriched thy state.

Look on My wounded side,Pierced and wounded for thee ;O look on the spear-thrust wide,Deep in the heart of Me!For there thy name thou shalt see,Writ on My heart for ever,By Love Insatiate.

Yet art thou snared by the flesh,Parted from Me, thy Home;Twisted in Pleasure's mesh,Careless of wrath to come:Son, thy footsteps that roam,Parted from Me, will lead theeIn ways that are desolate.

Sweetly the world hath wrought,With seeming good to entice;She tells thee not she is nought,And takes of her lovers a price:I set thee in Paradise!And if thou wilt dwell beside MeI crown thee in royal state.

The demons who lurk and spy,To make thee fall into sin,Would hunt thee from heaven on high,Spoil thee, and wound thee within;Nor would they have thee winThat purer life thou hast lost:They trick thee early and late!

Thy foes are close convened,Poor wretch, thy soul is at stake,The World, the Flesh, and the Fiend,And no defence canst thou make:Those forces thou canst not break,Save with Mine arms and equipment,Thy foes are so desperate!

If thou a master couldst findBetter and kinder than I,Excuse were thine, of a kind,And lighter my grief might lie:But thou hast left me, to hieDown to hell with a traitor,To torments inveterate.

Thou hast fled from my gentle handTo the hand of vengeance and death;How dolorous wilt thou stand,When thy sentence hasteneth!Then shalt thou feel, in a breath,All thou hast wrought of evil,And never canst revocate.

Ah! to condemn am I loath!So dearly I love thee still;Yet must I grieve at thy growthDeeper and deeper in ill:—The blow must fall when it will;Alas! for I cannot save theeThy heart is so obdurate.