Every good thing passes, but there is a farther shore;
the dying of the one good makes another to endure;
it's a feature of all goodness no subtle words can hide:
God is born in Bethlehem, and God is crucified.
As the seed-husk falls away so that the sprouting stem may live,
so falls away the prior good, its very life to give.
This is the dark evangel that reigns beneath the sky:
the flower bursts to blossom and in its very blossom dies.
But in every flower's fading is fruition of a life,
a mediating labor that births the fruit to light.
And in a dusty manger far beneath a Magi's star
a doom is writ and graven that no mortal hand can bar
in living proof of glory that no man can well ignore:
for every good thing passes, but there is a farther shore.