LOUD mockers in the roaring street   Say Christ is crucified again: Twice pierced His gospel-bearing feet,   Twice broken His great heart in vain.

I hear, and to myself I smile, For Christ talks with me all the while.

No angel now to roll the stone   From off His unawaking sleep, In vain shall Mary watch alone,   In vain the soldiers vigil keep.

Yet while they deem my Lord is dead My eyes are on His shining head.

Ah! never more shall Mary hear   That voice exceeding sweet and low Within the garden calling clear:   Her Lord is gone, and she must go.

Yet all the while my Lord I meet In every London lane and street.

Poor Lazarus shall wait in vain,   And Bartimaeus still go blind; The healing hem shall ne'er again   Be touch'd by suffering humankind.

Yet all the while I see them rest, The poor and outcast, on His breast.

No more unto the stubborn heart   With gentle knocking shall He plead, No more the mystic pity start,   For Christ twice dead is dead indeed.

So in the street I hear men say, Yet Christ is with me all the day.