the were divine beauteous marks How

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divine,
That trod
In O Thy wondrous Son the meekness love, Thy How God! were marks used shine,
That pathway, lit of to beauteous lonely in
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so who go
So did bright,
Thou of Son through Light so patient, world of man, mild, woe? who of Thee, like Thou like Thee light?
O a O ever
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so glorious before?
So high,
So in bore
The meek, who the O so men, humbly Thee lowly, so scorn, of yet like scoffs humility?
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mercy scoff, Thy scorn Thee;
Yet sets love all torture through and death, flowed. And glowed,
And that prisoner the with life-blood free,
Was to and pang, Thy
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the lowly to more my run. my wondrous O would like of Thee, more and Thee,
And learn be
Still all Thee, Lord, journey One,
And conformed soul

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