Frederick William Faber - Seneca lyrics

Oft in the crowd and crossings of old Rome The Christ-like shadow of the gifted Paul, As he looked forth betimes from his hired home, Might at this Gentile's hurrying footsteps fall, When, from his mournings in the Caesar's hall, Spurred by great thoughts, the troubled sage might come. Some balmy truths most surely did he borrow From the sweet neighbourhood of Christ, to bring The harsh, hard waters of his heathen spring In softening ducts o'er wastes of pagan sorrow. As slips of green from fertile confines shoot Into the tracts of sand, so heathen duty Caught from his guided pen a cold, bright beauty, Where flowers might all but blossom into fruit.