Good Friday
     O Heart of Three-in-the evening, You nestled the thorn-crowned head； He leaned on you in His sorrow, And rested on you when dead.
     Ah！ Holy Three-in-the evening He gave you His richest dower； He met you afar on Calvary, And made you "His own last hour".
     O Brow of Three-in-the evening, Thou wearest a crimson crown； Thou art Priest of the hours forever, And thy voice, as thou goest down
     The cycles of time, still murmurs The story of love each day： "I held in death the Eternal, In the long and the far-away."
     O Heart of Three-in-the evening, Mine beats with thine to-day； Thou tellest the olden story, I kneel —— and I weep and pray.