​Of the second (and final) coming


Unto each man his handiwork, unto each his crown,

The Just Fate gives ;

Whoso takes the world’s life on him and his own lays down,

He, dying so, lives.

Who hears the whole heaviness of the wronged world’s weight

And puts it by,

It is well with him suffering, though he face man’s fate ;

How should he die ?

Seeing death has no part in him anymore, no power

Upon his head;

He has bought his eternity with a little hour,

And is not dead.

For an hour, if ye look for him, he is no more found,

For one hour’s space;

Then ye lift your eyes up to him and behold him crowned,

A deathless face.


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