(Lyra Messianica, 1864.) O Christ, The Vine With Living Fruit, The Twelvefold-Fruited Tree Of Life, The Balm In Gilead After Strife, The Valley Lily And The Rose; Stronger Than Lebanon, Thou Root; Sweeter Than Clustered Grapes, Thou Vine; O Best, Thou Vineyard Of Red Wine, Keeping Thy Best Wine Till The Close. Pearl Of Great Price Thyself Alone, And Ruddier Than The Ruby Thou; Most Precious Lightning Jasper Stone, Head Of The Corner Spurned Before: Fair Gate Of Pearl, Thyself The Door; Clear Golden Street, Thyself The Way; By Thee We Journey Toward Thee Now, Through Thee Shall Enter Heaven One Day. I Thirst For Thee, Full Fount And Flood; My Heart Calls Thine, As Deep To Deep: Dost Thou Forget Thy Sweat And Pain, They Provocation On The Cross? Heart-Pierced For Me, Vouchsafe To Keep The Purchase Of Thy Lavished Blood: The Gain Is Thine, Lord, If I Gain; Or If I Lose, Thine Own The Loss. At Midnight (Saith The Parable) A Cry Was Made, The Bridegroom Came; Those Who Were Ready Entered In: The Rest, Shut Out In Death And Shame, Strove All Too Late That Feast To Win, Their Die Was Cast, And Fixed Their Lot; A Gulf Divided Heaven From Hell; The Bridegroom Said - I Know You Not. But Who Is This That Shuts The Door, And Saith - I Know You Not - To Them? I See The Wounded Hands And Side, The Brow Thorn-Tortured Long Ago: Yea; This Who Grieved And Bled And Died, This Same Is He Who Must Condemn; He Called, But They Refused To Know; So Now He Hears Their Cry No More.