Christian, Wouldst Thou Boast Aright?

Christian

wouldst thou boast aright

Deck thy brows with liv­ing light?

Twined above that al­tar’s horns

Contemplate the crown of thorns:

Him

the ra­ther

love the more

Who for thee that thorn-crown wore.

This the King of Glo­ry bound

All His bleed­ing fore­head round;

With this hel­met on His head

Smote the foe of quick and dead;

Crowned with this tri­umph­ant wreath

Plucked the thor­ny sting from death.

This the crest the fight to stem

Pontiff’s on­ly dia­dem

Only crown on earth to win

In the bat­tle­field of sin

Changed

the while that head they hold

Crown of thorns to crowns of gold.

All those thorn-points

sharp and go­ry

Touched by Him are rays of glo­ry

In His Pass­ion’s cru­ci­fy­ing

Scorn no more

but praise un­dy­ing

Twining ros­es for His tomb

Of an ama­ran­thine bloom.

Thorny ground with sweat of brow

Mingling in that la­bor now

While the se­cond Ad­am toils

All the earth of curse de­spoils;

Thorns

fit on­ly for the burn­ing

To a wreath of ra­di­ance turn­ing.

Only good

and on­ly grand

Jesus

strength of those that stand

Only might of them that win

Pluck from life the sting of sin;

From our work with bri­ers strown

Wreathe us an eter­nal crown!