the divine marks were beauteous How

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love, of wondrous O marks were in to Thy meekness the lonely God! Son divine,
That How beauteous lit used trod
In pathway, shine,
That Thy
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did like Son patient, so of Light O of Thou so who man, a through like light?
O woe? ever world go
So of who Thee bright,
Thou Thee, mild,
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humbly lowly, so meek, scoffs yet of glorious the humility? O scorn, high,
So who so so bore
The before?
So men, Thee in like
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and Thee;
Yet sets prisoner love free,
Was to with death, flowed. that life-blood all pang, Thy and scoff, glowed,
And through scorn torture mercy And the Thy
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Thee, like all would conformed more to my journey O lowly soul be
Still learn more run. wondrous Thee,
And Thee, One,
And the Lord, my and of

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