Far from the world, far from delight, Distinguishing not day from night; Vowed to one sacrifice of all The happy things, that men befall; Pleading one sacrifice, before Whom sun and sea and wind adore; Far from earth’s comfort, far away, We cry to God, we cry and pray For men, who have the common day. Dance, merry world! and sing: but we, Hearing, remember Calvary: Get gold, and thrive you! but the sun Once paled; and the centurion Said: _This dead man was God’s own Son_. Think you, we shrink from common toil, Works of the mart, works of the soil; That, prisoners of strong despair, We breathe this melancholy air; Forgetting the dear calls of race, And bonds of house, and ties of place; That, cowards, from the field we turn, And heavenward, in our weakness, yearn? Unjust! unjust! while you despise Our lonely years, our mournful cries: You are the happier for our prayer; The guerdon of our souls, you share. Not in such feebleness of heart, We play our solitary part; Not fugitives of battle, we Hide from the world, and let things be: But rather, looking over earth, Between the bounds of death and birth; And sad at heart, for sorrow and sin, We wondered, where might help begin. And on our wonder came God’s choice, A sudden light, a clarion voice, Clearing the dark, and sounding clear: And we obeyed: behold us, here! In prison bound, but with your chains: Sufferers, but of alien pains. Merry the world, and thrives apace, Each in his customary place: Sailors upon the carrying sea, Shepherds upon the pasture lea, And merchants of the town; and they, Who march to death, the fighting way; And there are lovers in the spring, With those, who dance, and those, who sing: The commonwealth of every day, Eastward and westward, far away, Once the sun paled; once cried aloud The Roman, from beneath the cloud: _This day the Son of God is dead_! Yet heed men, what the Roman said? They heed not: we then heed for them, The mindless of Jerusalem; Careless, they live and die: but we Care, in their stead, for Calvary. O joyous men and women! strong, To urge the wheel of life along, With strenuous arm, and cheerful strain, And wisdom of laborous brain: We give our life, our heart, our breath, That you may live to conquer death; That, past your tomb, with souls in health, Joy may be yours, and blessed wealth; Through vigils of the painful night, Our spirits with your tempters fight: For you, for you, we live alone, Where no joy comes, where cold winds moan: Nor friends have we, nor have we foes; Our Queen is of the lonely Snows. Ah! and sometimes, our prayers between, Come sudden thoughts of what hath been: Dreams! And from dreams, once more we fall