[from Collected Works, T.E.Brown]

A SERMON AT CLEVEDON

GOOD FRIDAY

Go on! Go on
Don't wait for me'.
Isaac was Abraham's son —
Yes, certainly —
And as they clomb Moriah —
I know! I know!
A type of the Messiah—
Just so ! just so !
Perfectly right ; and then the ram
Caught in the-listening?
Why of course I am !
Wherefore, my brethren, that was counted — yes—
To Abraham for righteousness—
Exactly, so I said—
At least-but go a-head !
Now mark
The conduct of the Patriarch—
" Behold the wood! "
Isaac exclaimed — By Jove, an Oxford hood!
" But where "—
What long straight hair! "
Where is the lamb ? "
You mean — the ram
No, no! I beg you pardon
There's the Churchwarden,
In the Clerk's pew —
Stick tipped with blue —
Now justification —
" By Faith ?" I fancy; Aye, the old equation;
Go it, justice ! Go it, Mercy!
Go it, Douglas! Go it, Percy !
I back the winner,
And have a vague conception of the sinner-Limbs nude,
Horatian attitude,
Nursing his foot in Sublapsarian mood—
More power
To you my friend! you're good for half-an-hour.
Dry bones! dry bones!
But in my ear the long-drawn west wind moans,
Sweet voices seem to murmur from the wave;
And I can sit, and look upon the stones
That cover Hallam's grave.