Classic Poem

Pain and weariness, aching eyes and head,
Pain and weariness all the day and night:
Yet the pillow's soft on my smooth soft bed,
And fresh air blows in, and mother shades the light.

Thou, O Lord, in pain hadst no pillow soft,
In Thy weary pain, in Thine agony:
But a cross of shame held Thee up aloft
Where Thy very mother could do nought for Thee.

I would gaze on Thee, on Thy patient face;
Make me like Thyself, patient, sweet, at peace;
Make my days all love, and my nights all praise,
Till all days and nights and patient sufferings cease.