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I SOMETIMES think that had I seen Thy face
In those old days when Thou wast with us here,
Clothed with our flesh, a man as we are men,
The very sight had filled my soul with grace;
I should have clung to Thee, and not again
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Moved from Thy side, no lurking doubt or fear
Could drive me from so sweet a hiding-place.
So think I sometimes, and would almost pray
That other age were chosen my faith to prove
More near Thine own (if such a prayer might be),
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Full of Thy memories. But no; each day
Hath its own light, O Christ, and proofs of Thee;
For there was one who saw Thy look of love,
Yet, having wealth, went sorrowful away.
