Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893.
Christus: A MysteryPart I. The Divine Tragedy. The Third Passover. XII. The Sea of Galilee
I ran unto the tomb, and stooping down
Looked in, and saw the linen grave-clothes lying,
Yet dared not enter.
The napkin that had been about his head,
Not lying with the other linen clothes,
But wrapped together in a separate place.
Of nails upon his hands, and thrust my hands
Into his side. I know He is arisen;
But where are now the kingdom and the glory
He promised unto us? We have all dreamed
That we were princes, and we wake to find
We are but fishermen.
Fishers of men!
To the old life, the peaceful life, among
The white towns of the Galilean lake.
In the gray light of morning! The old life,
Yea, the old life! for we have toiled all night
And have caught nothing.
Standing upon the beach and beckoning?
’T is like an apparition. He hath kindled
A fire of coals, and seems to wait for us.
He calleth.
On the right side of the ship, and ye shall find.
And one who said: Launch out into the deep,
And cast your nets!
And they are filled, so that we cannot draw them!
I will go before you into Galilee!
Casteth out fear. Now then, if ye are men,
Put forth your strength; we are not far from shore;
The net is heavy, but breaks not. All is safe.
Let me behold thy face, and kiss thy feet!
Thou art not dead, thou livest! Again I see thee.
Pardon, dear Lord! I am a sinful man;
I have denied thee thrice. Have mercy on me!
Lo! we again have found thee! Leave us not!
And come and eat!
As He was wont. From his own blessed hands
Again we take it.
Lovest thou me, more than these others?
More, Lord, than all men; even more than these.
Thou knowest that I love thee.
Self-confident and boastful as before.
Nothing will cure him.
Lovest thou me?
Thou knowest that I love thee.
Repeated with more vehemence. Can the Master
Doubt if we love Him?
Lovest thou me?
Thou knowest that I love thee.
When thou wast young thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst
Whither thou wouldst; but when thou shalt be old,
Thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and other men
Shall gird and carry thee whither thou wouldst not.
Follow thou me!
Of what death he shall die.
And what shall this man do?
He tarry till I come, what is it to thee?
Follow thou me!
Will follow thee through fasting and temptation,
Through all thine agony and bloody sweat,
Thy cross and passion, even unto death!