A humble man moved o’er the down
Beneath a hill-hid eastern town.
He viewed all mildly, like a King,
And, like a child, touched everything.
The sheep around, the bird above,
Were gathered to his lonely love.
He passed the cloud, the sparrow’s wing,
And left them all a song to sing.
He touched the wild flowers, and they flame,
Red banners of his royal name,
Tall fiery symbols of his heart
That, careless, in God’s gifts take part,
Signs of the tranquil blaze that shone
About the gentler Solomon.
He moved, and touched them with a spell,
And left them all a tale to tell.
He brake the bread, he filled the wine
That gleamed into a blood-red sign.
The coarsest grain to blessings turned,
The dimmest wine in glory burned
To knit in glistening bonds and rare
His own together everywhere,
Even as the board bound true as He
The unlettered twelve of Galilee.
He touched the common food of man
And left it with a gracious plan.