Page:The tale of Balen (IA taleofbalen00swin).pdf/109

 For in that chamber's wondrous shrine Was part of Christ's own blood, the wine Shed of the true triumphal vine Whose growth bids earth's deep darkness shine As heaven's deep light through the air and sea; That mystery toward our northern shore Arimathean Joseph bore For healing of our sins of yore, That grace even there might be.

And with that spear there shrined apart Was Christ's side smitten to the heart. And fiercer than the lightning's dart The stroke was, and the deathlike smart Wherewith, night drained of blood and breath, The king lay stricken as one long dead: And Joseph's was the blood there shed, For near akin was he that bled, Near even as life to death.