'Where the Blessed Feet Have Trod'

Not alone in Palestine those blessed Feet have trod,
For I catch their print,
I have seen their dint
On a plot of chalky ground,
Little villas dotted round;
On a sea-worn waste,
Where a priest, in haste,
Passeth with the Blessed Sacrament to one dying, frail,

Through the yarrow, past the tamarisk, and the plaited
snail:
Bright upon the grass I see
Bleeding Feet of Calvary —
And I worship, and I clasp them round!
On this bit of chalky, English ground,
Jesu, Thou art found: my God I hail,
My Lord, my God!