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Poems . Craik, Dinah Maria Mulock, 1826–1887.
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page: 209

OUR FATHER’S BUSINESS:

HOLMAN HUNT’S PICTURE OF “CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE.”

  • O CHRIST‐CHILD, Everlasting, Holy One,
  • Sufferer of all the sorrow of this world,
  • Redeemer of the sin of all this world,
  • Who by Thy death brought’st life into this world,—
  • O Christ, hear us!
  • This, this is Thou. No idle painter’s dream
  • Of aureoled, imaginary Christ,
  • Laden with attributes that make not God;
  • But Jesus, son of Mary; lowly, wise,
  • Obedient, subject unto parents, mild,
  • Meek—as the meek that shall inherit earth,
  • Pure—as the pure in heart that shall see God.
  • O infinitely human, yet divine!
  • Half clinging childlike to the mother found,
  • page: 210
  • Yet half repelling—as the soft eyes say,
  • “How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not
  • That I must be about my Father’s business?”
  • As in the Temple’s splendors mystical,
  • Earth’s wisdom hearkening to the all‐wise One,
  • Earth’s closest love clasping the all‐loving One,
  • He sees far off the vision of the cross,
  • The Christ‐like glory and the Christ‐like doom.
  • Messiah! Elder Brother, Priest and King,
  • The Son of God, and yet the woman’s seed;
  • Enterer within the veil; Victor of death,
  • And made to us first fruits of them that sleep;
  • Saviour and Intercessor, Judge and Lord,—
  • All that we know of Thee, or knowing not
  • Love only, waiting till the perfect time
  • When we shall know even as we are known—
  • O Thou Child Jesus, Thou dost seem to say
  • By the soft silence of these heavenly eyes
  • (That rose out of the depths of nothingness
  • Upon this limner’s reverent soul and hand)
  • We too should be about our father’s business—
  • O Christ, hear us!
  • Have mercy on us, Jesus Christ, our Lord!
  • The cross Thou borest still is hard to bear;
  • And awful even to humblest follower
  • The little that Thou givest each to do
  • page: 211
  • Of this Thy Father’s business; whether it be
  • Temptation by the devil of the flesh,
  • Or long‐linked years of lingering toil obscure,
  • Uncomforted, save by the solemn rests
  • On mountain‐tops of solitary prayer;
  • Oft ending in the supreme sacrifice,
  • The putting off all garments of delight,
  • And taking sorrow’s kingly crown of thorn,
  • In crucifixion of all self to Thee,
  • Who offeredst up Thyself for all the world.
  • O Christ, hear us!
  • Our Father’s business:—unto us, as Thee,
  • The whole which this earth‐life, this hand‐breadth span
  • Out of our everlasting life that lies
  • Hidden with Thee in God, can ask or need.
  • Outweighing all that heap of petty woes—
  • To us a measure huge—which angels blow
  • Out of the balance of our total lot,
  • As zephyrs blow the winged dust away.
  • O Thou who wert the Child of Nazareth,
  • Make us see only this, and only Thee,
  • Who camest but to do thy Father’s will,
  • And didst delight to do it. Take Thou then
  • Our bitterness of loss,—aspirings vain,
  • And anguishes of unfulfilled desire,
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  • Our joys imperfect, our sublimed despairs,
  • Our hopes, our dreams, our wills, our loves, our all,
  • And cast them into the great crucible
  • In which the whole earth, slowly purified,
  • Runs molten, and shall run—the Will of God.
  • O Christ, hear us!
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