the marks were beauteous divine How

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

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