LA CROIX ROUGE
A Wayside Calvary in Flanders.
Two thousand years since Christ was crucified;
Since thorn and nail did torment that frail flesh:
Again I see
Him hangéd on a tree,
And crucified afresh!
Since thorn and nail did torment that frail flesh:
Again I see
Him hangéd on a tree,
And crucified afresh!
Once more that darkness over all the land;
The graves—the graves are full—they give not up their dead:
The bitter cup
Is lifted up,
The crown pierces His head.
The graves—the graves are full—they give not up their dead:
The bitter cup
Is lifted up,
The crown pierces His head.
The scourging rod, the mocking reed are His,
The veritable Son of Man and God;
Through feet and hands
The iron stands,
The Cross is red with blood.
The veritable Son of Man and God;
Through feet and hands
The iron stands,
The Cross is red with blood.
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