For They Shall Inherit the Earth
O son of man—name of thy choice,
Our brother-Lord, our life,
The story says thy noble voice
Was never heard in strife.
Loving always, asleep, awake,
Talking, or drinking wine—
Even uttering woe, thy love would make
The sons of God divine.
Without a place to lay thy head,
That head yet wore earth’s crown;
At thy command diseases fled,
The winds and waves lay down.
In all things like thy brethren made,
Grant, king of kings, that we,
In humble royalty arrayed,
Possess the earth like thee.