The Fugitive by Alice Meynell — Read

"Nous avons chassé ce Jésus Christ." -- FRENCH PUBLICIST.

Yes, from the ingrate heart, the street

Of garrulous tongue, the warm retreat

Within the village and the town;

Not from the lands where ripen brown

A thousand thousand hills of wheat;

Not from the long Burgundian line,

The Southward, sunward range of vine.

Hunted, He never will escape / The flesh, the blood, the sheaf, the grape, / That feed His man -- the bread, the wine.