THROUGH the old cathedral window
Steals the parting light of day,
Painting many a curious fresco,
Writing many a mystic lay.
'Neath the lofty Gothic archway
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Stands the altar old and grim,
With a cross of Lebanon cedar;
On its arms it beareth Him.
And a gold and scarlet sunbeam,
Darting up the sacred aisle,
Crowns Him with a crown of glory,
Lights Him with a holy smile,
Sheds its radiance on the crimson
Streamlet from his pierced side;
From his hands and feet the life blood
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