From Nazareth

Comes any good from Na­za­reth?

The scorn­ful chal­lenge as of old

Is flung on ma­ny a jeer­ing breath

From clois­tered cells and marts of gold.

Comes any good from Na­za­reth?

Behold

the migh­ty Na­za­rene

The Lord of life

the Lord of death

Through war­ring ages walks se­rene.

One touch up­on His gar­ment’s fringe

Still heals the hurt of bit­ter years.

Before Him yet the de­mons cringe

He gives the wine of joy for tears.

O city of the Car­pen­ter

Upon the hill slope old and gray

The world among its pain and stir

Turns yearn­ing eyes up­on thee to­day.

For He who dwelt in Na­za­reth

And wrought with toil of hand and brain

Alone gives vic­to­ry to faith

Until the day He come again.