"But chiefly Thou, Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven To bleed for man, to teach him how to live, And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die."

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Into the woods, my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent, Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him, When into the woods He came.

— Sidney Lanier