It sometimes happens when looking for Lost objects, a book, a picture or A coin or spoon, That something falls across the mind— Not quite a shadow but what a shadow would be In a place that lacked light.
We, then, following the holy Fathers, all with one consent, teach men to confess one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, the same perfect in Godhead and also perfect in manhood;
Comes the parade now with one accord, Marching comes the army and the clear, bright bugling begins. Fearsome is the glittering of each reflected sword, With gold and steel amassing the moving paladins.
You waste the attention of your eyes, the glittering labour of your hands, and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves of which you'll taste not a morsel; you are free to slave for others— you are free to make the rich richer.
Jesus, refuge of the weary, blest Redeemer, whom we love, fountain in life's desert dreary, Savior from the world above, often have your eyes, offended, gazed upon the sinner's fall; yet, upon the cross extended, you endured the pain of all.