His wet cheeks looked as they had worn,
Each, with its rose, a thorn,

Set there (my boy, you understand?)
By his own brother's hand:

" Look at my cheek. What shall I do? —
You know I have but two! "

His mother answered, as she read
What my Lord Christ had said,

(While tears began to drop like rain:)
" Go, turn the two again. "