The Black Christ
1
GOD'S glory and my country's shame,And how one man who cursed Christ's nameMay never fully expiateThat crime till at the Blessed GateOf Heaven He meet and pardon meOut of His love and charity;How God, who needs no man's applause,For love of my stark soul, of flawsComposed, seeing it slip, did stoopDown to the mire and pick me up,And in the hollow of His handEnact again at my commandThe world's supremest tragedy,Until I die my burthen be;How Calvary in Palestine,Extending down to me and mine,Was but the first leaf in a lineOf trees on which a Man should swingWorld without end, in sufferingFor all men's healing, let me sing.
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