O songs without a sound，
O fellowship whose phantom1 tread
Hallows a phantom ground
How in a gleam have these revealed
The faith we had not found.
We have sought God in a cloudy Heaven，
We have passed by God on earth：
His seven sins and his sorrows seven，
His wayworn mood and mirth，
Like a ragged2 cloak have hid from us
The secret of his birth.
Brother of men， when now I see
The lads go forth3 in line，
Thou knowest my heart is hungry in me
As for thy bread and wine；
Thou knowest my heart is bowed in me
To take their death for mine.
