Here you will find the Poem Christ Crucified of poet Richard Crashaw
THY restless feet now cannot go For us and our eternal good, As they were ever wont. What though They swim, alas! in their own flood? Thy hands to give Thou canst not lift, Yet will Thy hand still giving be; It gives, but O, itself's the gift! It gives tho' bound, tho' bound 'tis free!