With hands held wide by painful stings,
The Savior proves the love he brings
Pricked of thorns the life grows dim.
With tears the Father mourns him.
...
I see fuzzy shapes of verdant mass;
Trees, trunks, a decaying carcass,
Like inkblots at first but then a spire,
A city. Above it broods a fire,
...
On this evening pure and free,
The sun is sinking below the sea.
A strand of trees and mountains blare,
While flowers trumpet in the air,
...