Easter Communion
Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast:
God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips.
You striped in secret with breath—taking whips,
Those crooked rough—scored chequers may be pieced
To crosses meant for Jesu’s; you whom the East
With draught of thin and pursuant cold so nips
Breathe Easter now; you serged fellowships,
You vigil—keepers with low flames decreased,
God shall o’er—brim the measures you have spent
With oil of gladness, for sackcloth and frieze
And the ever—fretting shirt of punishment
Give myrrhy—threaded golden folds of ease.
Your scarce—sheathed bones are weary of being bent:
Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees.
