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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348588" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Brother Of The Battuti</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shed, sinful flesh, these tears of blood,<br>For all thy vileness all too few; <br>Wash out, O holy healing flood,<br>The sins that always in God's view<br>Stand as a mountain day and night,<br>A mountain growing up from hell; <br>Smite, deluge of my torments, smite<br>Upon the burrowing base, and swell<br>Up, upward to the very brow.<br>Shall God no mercy have for me<br>When thou art shaken, even thou,<br>Hurled down and cast into the sea? <br>No mercy? Yea, doth God require<br>These cruel pangs, and all in vain<br>To save me from the flaming fire? <br>Shall all my blood pour forth like rain,<br>Nor fructify the barren sod,<br>Nor cleanse my scarlet sins like wool,<br>Nor turn the burning wrath of God? <br>Lo, all these years my hours are full<br>Of sorer suffering than of old<br>His martyrs bore, that triumphed still,<br>Gained grace, and heard the harps of gold,<br>And saw the city on the hill.<br>I have not tasted flesh, nor fed<br>On dainty fare, nor known the touch<br>Of joyous wine, nor bitten bread,<br>Save mouldy, and of that not much,<br>Sour crusts, with water old and stale,<br>And herbs and roots; no rest I take<br>Save when these vile limbs faint and fail,<br>But roaming all the night awake<br>I think on my exceeding sin.<br>God knows I take no rest at all,<br>Who haply, resting not, shall win<br>The final goal before I fall.<br>Yea, and not these alone; yea, these<br>Might all men do for heaven; but I,<br>In suns that scorch, in moons that freeze,<br>About my shuddering shoulders ply<br>This biting scourge of knotted cord,<br>And shout to feel the blood run down.<br>Wilt thou not think on this, dear Lord? <br>Yea, when the jewels of thy crown<br>Thou countest up remembering,<br>Wilt thou not, Lord, remember this,-<br>That is not, Lord, a little thing,-<br>And let me see thy heaven of bliss? <br>O Lord, my Love, my Life, my Love,<br>I swoon in ecstasy divine; <br>Take, take my blood and drink thereof,<br>A drink-offering of costly wine<br>Poured out into a sacred cup; <br>Take, take my blood poured freely out<br>And drain the winepress' fruitage up.<br>O Lord, I parch with burning drought,<br>I, whom the streams may not refresh; <br>Give me, my Lord, my Love, give me<br>Thy spirit, as I give my flesh<br>A living sacrifice to thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Symons">Arthur Symons</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348588" data-title="A Brother Of The Battuti de Arthur Symons" data-description="Shed, sinful flesh, these tears of blood,
For all thy vileness all too few; 
Wash out, O holy healing flood,
The sins that always in God's view
Stand as a mountain day and night,
A mountain growing up from hell; 
Smite, deluge of my torments, smit..."></div>
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