“Your call is clear, cold centuries across;You bid me follow you, and take my cross,And daily lose myself, myself deny,And stern against myself shout ‘Crucify’.My stubborn nature rises to rebelAgainst your call. Proud choruses of hellUnite to magnify my restless hateOf servitude, lest I capitulate.The world, to see my cross, would pause and jeer.I have no choice, but still to persevereTo save myself – and follow you from far,More slow than Magi-for I have no star.And yet you call me still. Your crossEclipses mine, transforms the bitter lossI thought that I would suffer if I cameTo you- into immeasurable gain.I kneel before you, Jesus, crucified,My cross is shouldered and my self denied;I’ll follow daily, closely, not refuseFor love of you and man myself to lose.”