He Walked Alone Beside The Lonely Sea, The Slanting Sunbeams Fell Upon His Face, His Shadow Fluttered On The Pure White Sands Like The Weary Wing Of A Soundless Prayer. And He Was, Oh! So Beautiful And Fair! Brown Sandals On His Feet -- His Face Downcast, As If He Loved The Earth More Than The Heav'Ns. His Face Looked Like His Mother'S -- Only Hers Had Not Those Strange Serenities And Stirs That Paled Or Flushed His Olive Cheeks And Brow. He Wore The Seamless Robe His Mother Made -- And As He Gathered It About His Breast, The Wavelets Heard A Sweet And Gentle Voice Murmur, "Oh! My Mother" -- The White Sands Felt The Touch Of Tender Tears He Wept The While. He Walked Beside The Sea; He Took His Sandals Off To Bathe His Weary Feet In The Pure Cool Wave -- For He Had Walked Across The Desert Sands All Day Long -- And As He Bathed His Feet He Murmured To Himself, "Three Years! Three Years! And Then, Poor Feet, The Cruel Nails Will Come And Make You Bleed; But, Ah! That Blood Shall Lave All Weary Feet On All Their Thorny Ways." "Three Years! Three Years!" He Murmured Still Again, "Ah! Would It Were To-Morrow, But A Will -- My Father'S Will -- Biddeth Me Bide That Time." A Little Fisher-Boy Came Up The Shore And Saw Him -- And, Nor Bold, Nor Shy, Approached, But When He Saw The Weary Face, Said Mournfully To Him: "You Look A-Tired." He Placed His Hand Upon The Boy'S Brown Brow Caressingly And Blessingly -- And Said: "I Am So Tired To Wait." The Boy Spake Not. Sudden, A Sea-Bird, Driven By A Storm That Had Been Sweeping On The Farther Shore, Came Fluttering Towards Him, And, Panting, Fell At His Feet And Died; And Then The Boy Said: "Poor Little Bird," In Such A Piteous Tone; He Took The Bird And Laid It In His Hand, And Breathed On It -- When To His Amaze The Little Fisher-Boy Beheld The Bird Flutter A Moment And Then Fly Aloft -- Its Little Life Returned; And Then He Gazed With Look Intensest On The Wondrous Face (Ah! It Was Beautiful And Fair) -- And Said: "Thou Art So Sweet I Wish Thou Wert My God." He Leaned Down Towards The Boy And Softly Said: "I Am Thy Christ." The Day They Followed Him, With Cross Upon His Shoulders, To His Death, Within The Shadow Of A Shelt'Ring Rock That Little Boy Knelt Down, And There Adored, While Others Cursed, The Thorn-Crowned Crucified.