Now Winter Past, The White-Thorn Bower. (Hymn)

"Thy gentleness hath made me great."     Now winter past, the white-thorn bower         Breaks forth and buds down all the glen;     Now spreads the leaf and grows the flower:         So grows the life of God, in men.     Oh, my child-God, most gentle King,         To me Thy waxing glory show;     Wake in my heart as wakes the spring,         Grow as the leaf and lily grow.     I was a child, when Thou a child         Didst make Thyself again to me;     And holy, harmless, undefiled,         Play'd at Thy mother Mary's knee.     Thou gav'st Thy pure example so,         The copy in my childish breast     Was a child's copy. I did know         God, made in childhood manifest.     Now I am grown, and Thou art grown         The God-man, strong to love, to will,     Who was alone, yet not alone,         Held in His Father's presence still.     Now do I know Thee for my cure,         My peace, the Absolver for me set;     Thy goings pass through deeps obscure,         But Thou with me art gentle yet.     Long-suffering Lord, to man reveal'd         As One that e'en the child doth wait,     Thy full salvation is my shield,         Thy gentleness hath made me great.