Of Such Is The Kingdom Of Heaven

Unfathomed depths of pure humanity

Speak in that face, and those enfolding hands

Laid lightly on the clinging child who stands

As child protected, as Thy subject, free.

In Thy still gaze the calm infinity

Of selfless sorrow, conquers, and commands

Our lesser griefs to loose their temporal bands,

Or bind in closer brotherhood to Thee.

For 'Man of Sorrows' to those eyes of Thine

The eyes we lift, with gathering tears are wet;

The pathos of that face but half divine

Subdues us, for such passion no man yet

Has known as that whereof the royal sign:

Sovereign compassion on Thy brow is set.