He that fell here wore the one crown
The humble sovereign can lay down.
And so he kindlier than he was before.
Time writes against this martyr's name.
A better world because he came,
God Padre Jayme to this western shore.
The savage with his ax land brand.
Could not Heaven's warrior understand.
"Seek Him, love Him, mu children!" so he cried
On the raw ranks of native men.
Who only struck, and struck again,
And left him with the arrows in his side.
The Father loved, when waned the day,
To wander up the valley way;
Free for an hour, from the resisting wills,
The wrestling with unready mind,
To bare his forehead to the wind,
Still blowing, blowing on the blessed hills.
Around this little leaning cross
Bend yellow grasses, wave and toss;
Gleam, gray ancestral olives; blow, winds blow
Back sweeter, sunny hour to hour,
Love's perfume -- breath of the one flower
In all God's keep that comes, and cannot go!
"The wooden Cross in the Woods"
John Vance Cheney
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