The Robin Redbreast

Sweet Robin, I have heard them say,
That thou were there, upon the day,
The Christ was crown'd in cruel scorn;
And bore away one bleeding thorn,
That, so, the blush upon thy breast,
In shameful sorrow, was impressed;
And thence thy genial sympathy,
With our redeemed humanity.
Sweet Robin, would that I might be,
Bathed in my Saviour's blood, like thee;
Bear in my breast, whate'er the loss,
The bleeding blazon of the cross;
Live, ever, with thy loving mind,
In fellowship with human kind;
And take my pattern still from thee,
In gentleness and constancy.