Young and radiant

young and radiant, he is standing,
as he stood at salem’s shrine;
just a lad, a lad forever,
with a look and grace divine!
“tell me, how it is ye sought me?
wist ye not my father’s plan?
i must be about his business,
would i be a son of man.”

i can see him humbly kneeling,
as he knelt upon the hill;
while the waters hushed their music,
and the night grew bright and still:
“brothers, tell me why ye sought me?
wist ye not my father’s plan?
he must grow in grace and wisdom,
who would be a son of man.”

like a flame his soul is striking
in his wrath at greed and shame;
“ye have made a den of robbers
of the temple to his name;
know ye not his equal justice?
wist ye not my father’s plan?
he must bathe his sword in heaven
who would be a son of man.”

i can see him dying, loving
unto death on calvary;
his dear hands still pleading, praying,
worn and torn for you and me!
“brothers, will ye scorn and leave me?
wist ye not my father’s plan?
he must wear a crown of sorrow
who would be a son of man.”