POEMS
THE KISS OF CHRIST
Lo, there He hangs—
Ashen figure pinioned against the wood.
GOD grant that I might love him
Even as I should.
I draw a little closer
To feel His love divine,
And hear Him gently whisper
“Ah, precious child of mine—
If now I would embrace you,
My hands would stain you red.
And if I leaned to whisper,
My thorns would pierce your head”.
‘Twas then I learned in sorrow
That love demands a price;
‘Twas then I learned that suffering
Is but the kiss of CHRIST.
Fr. John H. Hampsch C.M.F.
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