Oh, my love, my sweet, thou my companion!
Let me touch thee. I would not know thy face,
But the surety of thy touch.
I am come as thy sister,
I would offer thee of mine.
Hast thou sorrow? Then look, this is my cup.
I have drunk it; it was bitter.
But give me of thy wine. I would know it.
Is thy heart sore? I would look upon it.
See, here is mine. I shall ope my bosom
And let thee behold it, bleeding.
Touch it, oh my sister,
And staunch the flow of anguish.
Let me lay my hands upon thy wounds,
For we two have bowed
Beneath the yoke together.
I have a message, a word, a pledge.
It is no mystery. All men might know it.
It is a common. thing constructed of wood.
It stood upon Calvary. But behold its shadow-
Its cooling, restful shade for all men.
(Patience Worth)
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