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1
THE MASTER He was hungry: | |
| ‘Shall we not dine,’ said He, | |
| ‘On the good fruit amongst the leaves | |
| Of this delightful tree?’ | |
| But oh! the fig-tree bore no fruit. | 5 |
| ‘Wither,’ He bade it, ‘to the root, | |
| For thus deceiving me.’ | |
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2
The Master He was hungry. | |
| He plucked the grains so red | |
| Of wheat that grew beside the way, | 10 |
| And He was bravely fed. | |
| ‘For this,’ He said, ‘I guerdon thee, | |
| Through all the years, a type to be | |
| Of Christ, the Living Bread.’ | |
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3
The Master He was thirsty. | 15 |
| He raised His hand on high, | |
| And crushed the good red grapes that grew | |
| The nearest to the sky. | |
| ‘And as thou gavest me drink of thine, | |
| So must I pour my blood, O Vine, | 20 |
| When I for man shall die.’ | |
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4
The Master He was passing | |
| From men He held so dear. | |
| The feast with bread and wine was made; | |
| The Friday Cross was near. | 25 |
| ‘Droop not!’ He spoke, and blessed their food: | |
| ‘The broken Body and the Blood | |
| Sustain you year by year.’ | |
| And corn and wine thenceforth have stood | |
| His symbols everywhere. | 30 |
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