307. Missa Viatoris

(In dread of Famine)

HERE, Pan, on grey rock slab we set for Thee

Thy Feast—the White Cake and the Red in Cup—

Shepherd and Lamb, we, lost goats, offer up

In pastoral wise Thine own Divinity.

The scared moon dips, the hardy sun comes up

To spy our Secret from yon cloudy hill:

O Pan that Thou by cloud and sun mayst fill

Our hills with food, we lift Thy Cake and Cup.

Heart of all good in men and beasts and earth,

Here on the hill our hearts, we lift them up:

Life-Blood and Flesh—White Cake and Red in Cup—

We break and pour Thee our drought and dearth!