Classic Poem

Still from their pulpits must we hear them say:
" The Christ on earth and in our midst lives still;
The Christ, as God and man, men's minds, nay more,
Men's craving hearts, can fill "

O painted Christ, with parted, flowing locks,
And mildly rapt, sadly ethereal face,
Still you gaze forth, we meet your mute appeal, —
And praise art's strength and grace.

O sculptured Christ, with hands spread out to bless,
O'er the great, splendid, storied church's door,
You stand still, — but you image you impress
On hearts below no more.
O limned and sculptured Christ, gazing from niche,
Or looking in sad state from burnished frame,
As men looked on you once, would we could look —
Look on and feel the same.


But then and now are parted, and He stands
No more enshrined in mystic majesty;
Only a man plods o'er the dusty roads,
Or listens to thy waves, O Galilee.