Journey of the Magi – T.S. Eliot

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Show Me Thy Face

Show me Thy face-one transient gleam

Of loveliness divine,

And I shall never think or dream

Of other love save Thine:

All lesser light will darken quite,

All lower glories wane,

The beautiful of earth will scarce

Seem beautiful again.

 

Show me Thy face-my faith and love

Shall henceforth fixed be,

And nothing here have power to move

My soul’s serenity.

My life shall seem a trance, a dream,

And all I feel and see,

Illusive, visionary Thou

The one reality!

 

Show me Thy face I shall forget

The weary days of yore,

The fretting ghosts of vain regret

Shall haunt my soul no more.

All doubts and fears for future years

In quiet trust subside,

And naught but blest content and calm

Within my breast abide.

 

Show me Thy face the heaviest cross

Will then seem light to bear;

There will be gain in every loss,

And peace with every care.

With such light feet the years will fleet,

Life seem as brief as blest,

Till I have laid my burden down,

And entered into rest.

Am I Not Enough?

Am I not enough, Mine own? enough,

Mine own, for thee?

Hath the world its palace towers,

Garden glades of magic flowers,

Where thou fain wouldst be?

Fair things and false are there,

False things but fair.

All shalt thou find at last,

Only in Me.

Am I not enough, Mine own? I, for ever

and alone, I, needing thee?

In Immanuel’s Land

The sands of time are sinking,

The dawn of Heaven breaks,

The summer morn I’ve sighed for,

The fair sweet morn awakes:

Dark, dark hath been the midnight,

But dayspring is at hand,

And glory glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

Oh! well it is for ever,

Oh! well for evermore,

My nest hung in no forest

Of all this death-doom’d shore:

Yea, let the vain world vanish,

As from the ship the strand,

While glory glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

There the Red Rose of Sharon

Unfolds its heartsome bloom,

And fills the air of Heaven

With ravishing perfume:

Oh! to behold it blossom,

While by its fragrance fann’d

Where glory glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

The King there in His beauty,

Without a veil, is seen:

It were a well-spent journey,

Though seven deaths lay between.

The Lamb, with His fair army,

Doth on Mount Zion stand,

And glory glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

Oh! Christ He is the Fountain,

The deep sweet well of love!

The streams on earth I’ve tasted,

More deep I’ll drink above:

There, to an ocean fulness,

His mercy doth expand,

And glory glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

E’en Anwoth was not heaven

E’en preaching was not Christ;

And in my sea-beat prison

My Lord and I held tryst:

And aye my murkiest storm-cloud

Was by a rainbow spann’d,

Caught from the glory dwelling

In Immanuel’s land.

But that He built a heaven

Of His surpassing love,

A little New Jerusalem,

Like to the one above,

Lord, take me o’er the water,

Had been my loud demand,

Take me to love’s own country,

Unto Immanuel’s land.

But flowers need night’s cool darkness

The moonlight and the dew;

So Christ, from one who loved it,

His shining oft withdrew;

And then for cause of absence,

My troubled soul I scann’d

But glory, shadeless, shineth

In Immanuel’s land.

The little birds of Anwoth

I used to count them blest,

Now, beside happier altars

I go to build my nest:

O’er these there broods no silence,

No graves around them stand,

For glory, deathless, dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

Fair Anwoth by the Solway,

To me thou still art dear!

E’en from the verge of Heaven

I drop for thee a tear.

Oh! if one soul from Anwoth

Meet me at God’s right hand,

My Heaven will be two Heavens,

In Immanuel’s land.

I have wrestled on toward Heaven,

’Gainst storm, and wind, and tide:

Now, like a weary traveller,

That leaneth on his guide,

Amid the shades of evening,

While sinks life’s lingring sand,

I hail the glory dawning

From Immanuel’s land.

Deep water cross’d life’s pathway,

The hedge of thorns was sharp;

Now these lie all behind me—

Oh! for a well-tuned harp!

Oh! to join Hallelujah

With yon triumphant band,

Who sing, where glory dwelleth,

In Immanuel’s land.

With mercy and with judgment

My web of time He wove,

And aye the dews of sorrow

Were lustered with His love.

I’ll bless the hand that guided,

I’ll bless the heart that plann’d,

When throned where glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

Soon shall the cup of glory

Wash down earth’s bitterest woes,

Soon shall the desert-briar

Break into Eden’s rose:

The curse shall change to blessing

The name on earth that’s bann’d,

Be graven on the white stone

In Immanuel’s land.

Oh! I am my Beloved’s,

And my Beloved is mine!

He brings a poor vile sinner

Into His House of wine.

I stand upon His merit,

I know no other stand,

Not e’en where glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

I shall sleep sound in Jesus,

Fill’d with His likeness rise,

To live and to adore Him,

To see Him with these eyes

Tween me and resurrection

But Paradise doth stand;

Then then for glory dwelling

In Immanuel’s land!

The Bride eyes not her garment,

But her dear Bridegroom’s face;

I will not gaze at glory,

But on my King of Grace

Not at the crown He giveth,

But on His pierced hand:

The Lamb is all the glory

Of Immanuel’s land.

I have borne scorn and hatred,

I have borne wrong and shame,

Earth’s proud ones have reproach’d me,

For Christ’s thrice blessed name:

Where God His seal set fairest

They’ve stamp’d their foulest brand;

But judgment shines like noonday

In Immanuel’s land.

They’ve summoned me before them,

But there I may not come,

My Lord says, Come up hither,

My Lord says, Welcome Home!

My kingly King, at His white throne,

My presence doth command,

Where glory glory dwelleth

In Immanuel’s land.

The Celestial Country/ Jerusalem the Golden

The world is very evil,

The times are waxing late;

Be sober and keep vigil,

The judge is at the gate-

The judge that comes in mercy,

The judge that comes with might,

To terminate the evil,

To diadem the right.

When the just and gentle Monarch

Shall summon from the tomb,

Let man, the guilty, tremble,

For Man, the God, shall doom!

Arise, arise, good Christian,

Let right to wrong succeed;

Let penitential sorrow

To heavenly gladness lead-

To the light that hath no evening,

That knows nor moon nor sun,

The light so new and golden,

The light that is but one.

And when the Sole-Begotten

Shall render up once more

The kingdom to the Father,

Whose own it was before,

Then glory yet unheard of

Shall shed abroad its ray,

Resolving all enigmas,

An endless Sabbath-day.

Then, then from his oppressors

The Hebrew shall go free,

And celebrate in triumph

The year of jubilee;

And the sunlit Land that recks not

Of tempest nor of fight,

Shall fold within its bosom

Each happy Israelite–

The Home of fadeless splendor,

Of flowers that fear no thorn,

Where they shall dwell as children,

Who here as exiles mourn.

Midst power that knows no limit,

And wisdom free from bound,

The Beatific Vision

Shall glad the Saints around-

The peace of all the faithful,

The calm of all the blest,

Inviolate, unvaried,

Divinest, sweetest, best.

Yes, peace! for war is needless-

Yes, calm! for storm is past–

And goal from finished labor,

And anchorage at last.

That peace-but who may claim it?

The guileless in their way,

Who keep the ranks of battle,

Who mean the thing they say-

The peace that is for heaven,

And shall be for the earth;

The palace that re-echoes

With festal song and mirth;

The garden, breathing spices,

The paradise on high;

Grace beautified to glory,

Unceasing minstrelsy.

There nothing can be feeble,

There none can ever mourn,

There nothing is divided,

There nothing can be torn.

‘Tis fury, ill, and scandal,

‘Tis peaceless peace below;

Peace, endless, strifeless, ageless,

The halls of Syon know.

O happy, holy portion,

Refection for the blest,

True vision of true beauty,

Sweet cure of all distrest!

Strive, man, to win that glory;

Toil, man, to gain that light;

Send hope before to grasp it,

Till hope be last in sight;

Till Jesus gives the portion

Those blessed souls to fill-

The insatiate, yet satisfied,

The full, yet craving still.

That fulness and that craving

Alike are free from pain,

Where thou, midst heavenly citizens,

A home like theirs shalt gain.

Here is the warlike trumpet;

There, life set free from sin,

When to the last Great Supper

The faithful shall come in;

When the heavenly net is laden

With fishes many and great

(So glorious in its fulness,

Yet so inviolate);

And perfect from unperfected,

And fall’n from those that stand,

And the sheep-flock from the goat-herd

Shall part an either hand.

And these shall pass to torment,

And those shall triumph then-

The new peculiar nation,

Blest number of blest men.

Jerusalem demands them;

They paid the price on earth,

And now shall reap the harvest

In blissfulness and mirth-

The glorious holy people,

Who evermore relied

Upon their Chief and Father,

The King, the Crucified–

The sacred ransomed number

Now bright with endless sheen,

Who made the Cross their watchword

Of Jesus Nazarene,

Who (fed with heavenly nectar

Where soul-like odors play)

Draw out the endless leisure

Of that long vernal day.

And, through the sacred lilies

And flowers on every side,

The happy dear-bought people

Go wandering far and wide;

Their breasts are filled with gladness,

Their mouths are tun’d to praise,

What time, now safe for ever,

On former sins they gaze:

The fouler was the error,

The sadder was the fall,

The ampler are the praises

Of Him who pardoned all.

Their one and only anthem,

The fulness of His love,

Who gives instead of torment,

Eternal joys above-

Instead of torment, glory;

Instead of death, that life

Wherewith your happy Country,

True Israelites, is rife.

Brief life is here our portion,

Brief sorrow, short-liv’d care;

The life that knows no ending-

The tearless life, is there.

O happy retribution!

Short toil, eternal rest;

For mortals and for sinners

A mansion with the blest!

That we should look, poor wand’rers,

To have our home on high!

That worms should seek for dwelling,

Beyond the starry sky!

To all one happy guerdon

Of one celestial grace;

For all, for all, who mourn their fall,

Is one eternal place.

And martyrdom hath roses

Upon that heavenly ground;

And white and virgin lilies

For virgin-souls abound.

There grief is turned to pleasure–

Such pleasure as below

No human voice can utter,

No human heart can know;

And after fleshly scandal,

And after this world’s night,

And after storm and whirlwind,

Is calm, and joy, and light.

And now we fight the battle,

But then shall wear the crown

Of full and everlasting

And passionless renown:

And now we watch and struggle,

And now we live in hope,

And Syon, in her anguish,

With Babylon must cope;

But He whom now we trust in

Shall then be seen and known,

And they that know and see Him

Shall have Him for their own.

The miserable pleasures

Of the body shall decay;

The bland and flattering struggles

Of the flesh shall pass away;

And none shall there be jealous,

And none shall there contend;

Fraud, clamor, guile-what say I?

All ill, all ill shall end!

And there is David’s Fountain,

And life in fullest glow;

And there the light is golden,

And milk and honey flow-

The light that hath no evening,

The health that hath no sore,

The life that hath no ending,

But lasteth evermore.

There Jesus shall embrace us,

There Jesus be embraced-

That spirit’s food and sunshine

Whence earthly love is chased.

Amidst the happy chorus,

A place, however low,

Shall shew Him us, and shewing,

Shall satiate evermore.

By hope we struggle onward:

While here we must be fed

By milk, as tender infants,

But there by Living Bread.

The night was full of terror,

The morn is bright with gladness;

The Cross becomes our harbor,

And we triumph after sadness.

And Jesus to His true ones

Brings trophies fair to see;

And Jesus shall be loved, and

Beheld in Galilee-

Beheld, when morn shall waken,

And shadows shall decay,

And each true-hearted servant

Shall shine as doth the day;

And every ear shall hear it–

“Behold thy King’s array,

Behold thy God in beauty,

The Law hath pass’d away!”

Yes I God my King and Portion,

In fulness of Thy grace,

We then shall see for ever,

And worship face to face.

Then Jacob into Israel,

From earthlier self estranged,

And Leah into Rachel

For ever shall be changed;

Then all the halls of Syon

For aye shall be complete,

And in the Land of Beauty,

All things of beauty meet.

For thee, O dear, dear Country!

Mine eyes their vigils keep;

For very love, beholding

Thy happy name, they weep.

The mention of thy glory

Is unction to the breast,

And medicine in sickness,

and love, and life, and rest.

O One, O only Mansion!

O Paradise of Joy!

Where tears-are ever banished,

And smiles have no alloy,

Beside thy living waters

All plants are, great and small,

The cedar of the forest,

The hyssop of the wall;

With jaspers glow thy bulwarks,

Thy streets with emeralds blaze,

The sardius and the topaz

Unite in thee their rays;

Thine ageless walls are bonded

With amethyst unpriced;

Thy Saints build up its fabric,

And the corner-stone is Christ.

The Cross is all thy splendor,

The Crucified thy praise;

His laud and benediction

Thy ransomed people raise:

“Jesus, the Gem of Beauty,

True God and Man,” they sing,

“The never-failing Garden,

The ever-golden Ring;

The Door, the Pledge, the Husband,

The Guardian of his Court;

The Day-star of Salvation,

The Porter and the Port!”

Thou hast no shore, fair ocean!

Thou hast no time, bright day!

Dear fountain of refreshment

To pilgrims far away!

Upon the Rock of Ages

They raise thy holy tower;

Thine is the victor’s laurel,

And thine the golden dower!

Thou feel’st in mystic rapture,

O Bride that know’st no guile,

The Prince’s sweetest kisses,

The Prince’s loveliest smile;

Unfading lilies, bracelets

Of living pearl thine own;

The Lamb is ever near thee,

The Bridegroom thine alone.

The Crown is He to guerdon,

The Buckler to protect,

And he Himself the Mansion,

And He the Architect.

The only art thou needest-

Thanksgiving for thy lot;

The only joy thou seekest-

The Life where Death is not.

And all thine endless leisure,

In sweetest accents, sings

The ill that was thy merit,

The wealth that is thy King’s!

Jerusalem the golden,

With milk and honey blest,

Beneath thy contemplation

Sink heart and voice oppressed.

I know not, O I know not.

What social jays are there!

What radiancy of glory,

What light beyond compare!

And when I fain would sing them,

My spirit fails and faints;

And vainly would it image

The assembly of the Saints.

They stand, those halls of Syon,

Conjubilant with song,

And bright with many an angel,

And all the martyr throng;

The Prince is ever in them,

The daylight is serene;

The pastures of the Blessed

Are decked in glorious sheen.

There is the Throne of David,

And there, from care released,

The song of them that triumph,

The shout of them that feast;

And they who, with their Leader,

Have conquered in the fight,

For ever and for ever

Are clad in robes of white!

O holy, placid harp-notes

Of that eternal hymn!

O sacred, sweet refection,

And peace of Seraphim!

O thirst, for ever ardent,

Yet evermore content!

O true peculiar vision

Of God cunctipotent!

Ye know the many mansions

For many a glorious name,

And divers retributions

That divers merits claim;

For midst the constellations

That deck our earthly sky,

This star than that is brighter-

And so it is on high.

Jerusalem the glorious!

The glory of the Elect!

O dear and future vision

That eager hearts expect!

Even now by faith I see thee,

Even here thy walls discern;

To thee my thoughts are kindled,

And strive, and pant, and yearn.

Jerusalem the only,

That look’st from heaven below,

In thee is all my glory,

In me is all my woe;

And though my body may not,

My spirit seeks thee fain,

Till flesh and earth return me

To earth and flesh again.

O none can tell thy bulwarks,

How gloriously they rise!

O none can tell thy capitals

O beautiful device!

Thy loveliness oppresses

All human thought and heart;

And none, O peace, O Syon,

Can sing thee as thou art!

New mansion of new people,

Whom God’s own love and light

Promote, increase, make holy,

Identify, unite!

Thou City of the Angels!

Thou City of the Lord!

Whose everlasting music

Is the glorious decachord!

And there the band of Prophets

United praise ascribes,

And there the twelvefold chorus

Of Israel’s ransomed tribes,

The lily-beds of virgins,

The roses’ martyr-glow,

The cohort of the Fathers

Who kept the Faith below.

And there the Sole-Begotten

Is Lord in regal state-

He, Judah’s mystic Lion,

He, Lamb Immaculate.

O fields that know no sorrow!

O state that fears no strife!

O princely bowers! O land of flowers!

O realm and home of Life!

Jerusalem, exulting

On that securest shore,

I hope thee, wish thee, sing thee,

And love thee evermore!

I ask not for my merit,

I seek not to deny

My merit is destruction,

A child of wrath am I;

But yet with Faith I venture

And Hope upon my way;

Far those perennial guerdons

I labor night and day.

The best and dearest Father,

Who made me and who saved,

Bore with me in defilement,

And from defilement laved,

When in His strength I struggle,

For very joy I leap,

When in my sin I totter,

I weep, or try to weep:

But grace, sweet grace celestial,

Shall all its love display,

And David’s Royal Fountain

Purge every sin away.

O mine, my golden Syon!

O lovelier far than gold,

With laurel-girt battalions,

And safe victorious fold!

O sweet and blessed Country,

Shall I ever see thy face?

O sweet and blessed Country,

Shall I ever win thy grace?

I have the hope within me

To comfort and to bless!

Shall I ever win the prize itself?

O tell me, tell me, Yes!

Exult, O dust and ashes!

The Lord shall be thy part;

His only, His for ever,

Thou shalt be, and thou art!

Exult, O dust and ashes!

The Lord shall be thy part;

His only, His for ever,

Thou shalt be, and thou art!

To Thy Temple I Repair

To Thy temple I repair;
Lord, I love to worship there
When within the veil I meet
Christ before the mercy seat.

I through Him am reconciled,
I through Him become Thy child.
Abba, Father, give me grace
In Thy courts to seek Thy face.

While Thy glorious praise is sung,
Touch my lips, unloose my tongue,
That my joyful soul may bless
Christ the Lord, my Righteousness.

While the prayers of saints ascend,
God of Love, to mine attend.
Hear me, for Thy Spirit pleads;
Hear, for Jesus intercedes.

While I hearken to Thy law,
Fill my soul with humble awe
Till Thy Gospel bring to me
Life and immortality.

While Thy ministers proclaim
Peace and pardon in Thy Name,
Through their voice, by faith, may I
Hear Thee speaking from the sky.

From Thy house when I return,
May my heart within me burn,
And at evening let me say,
“I have walked with God today.”

God Reveals His Presence

God reveals His presence,
Let us now adore Him,
And with awe appear before Him.
God is in His temple,
All in us keep silence,
And before Him bow with reverence.
Him alone, God we own,
He’s our Lord and Savior;
Praise His Name forever.

God reveals His presence,
Whom angelic legions
Serve with awe in heav’nly regions:
Holy, Holy, Holy,
Sing the hosts of Heaven,
Praise to God be ever given:
Condescend to attend
Graciously, O Jesus;
To our songs and praises.

O majestic Being,
Were our soul and body
Thee to serve at all times ready;
Might we, like the angels
Who behold Thy glory,
In submission sink before Thee;
And through grace all our days
In our whole demeanor,
Give Thee praise and honor!

Lord, come dwell within us,
While on earth we tarry,
Make us Thy blest sanctuary.
O vouchsafe Thy presence,
Draw unto us nearer,
And reveal Thyself still clearer;
Us direct and protect,
Thus we in all places
Shall show forth Thy praises.

Desire of God

Oh for freedom, for freedom in worshipping God,
For the mountain-top feelking of generous souls
For the health, for the air, of the hearts deep and broad
Where grace not in rills but in cataracts rolls!

Most good is the brisk wholesome service of fear
And the calm wise obedience of conscience is sweet;
And good are all worships, all loyalties dear,
All promptitudes fitting, all services meet.

But none honours God like the thirst of desire,
Nor possesses the heart so completely with Him;
For it burns the world out with the swift ease of fire,
And fills life with good works till it runs o’er the brim.

Then pray for desire, for love’s wistfullest yearning,
For the beautiful pining of holy desire;
Yes, pray for a soul that is ceaslessly burning
With the soft fragrant flames of this thrice happy fire.

For the heart only dwells, truly dwells with its treasure,
And the languor of love captive hearts can unfetter;
And they who love God cannot love Him by measure,
For their love is but hunger to love Him still better.

Is it hard to serve God, timid soul? Hast thou found
Gloomy forests, dark glens, mountain-tops on thy way?
All the hard would be easy, all the tangles unwound,
Wouldst thou only desire as well as obey.

For the lack of desire is the ill of all ills;
Many thousands through it the dark pathway have trod,
The balsam, the wine of predestinate wills
Is a jubilant pining and longing for God.

‘Tis a fire that will burn what thou canst not pass over;
‘Tis a lightning that breaks away all bars to love;
‘Tis a sunbeam the secrets of God to discover;
‘Tis the wing David prayed for, the wing of the Dove.

I have seen living men-and their good angels know
How they failed and fell short through the want of desire;
Souls once almost saints have descended so low,
‘Twill be much if their wings bear them over the fire.

I have seen dying men not so grand in their dying
As our love would have wished, – and through lack of desire:
Oh that we may die languishing, burning, and sighing;
For God’s last grace and best is to die all on fire.

‘Tis a great gift of God to live after our Lord,
Yet the old Hebrew times they were ages of fire.
When fainting souls fed on each dim figured word,
And God called men He loved most- the Men of Desire.

Oh then wish more for God, burn more with desire,
Covet more the dear sight of his marvellous Face;
Pray louder, pray longer, for the sweet gift of fire
To come down on thy heart with its whirlwinds of grace.

Yes, pine for thy God, fainting soul! ever pine;
Ph languis mid all that life brings thee of mirth;
Famished, thirsty, and restless, -let such life be thine, -
For what sight is to heaven, desire is to earth.

God loves to be longed for, He loves to be sought,
For He sought us Himself with such longing and love:
He died for desire of us, marvellous thought!
And He yearns for us now to be with Him above.

Stricken, Smitten, And Afflicted (‘Tis the Christ)

Stricken, smitten, and afflicted,
See Him dying on the tree!
’Tis the Christ by man rejected;
Yes, my soul, ’tis He, ’tis He!
’Tis the long expected prophet,
David’s Son, yet David’s Lord;
Proofs I see sufficient of it:
’Tis a true and faithful Word.

Tell me, ye who hear Him groaning,
Was there ever grief like His?
Friends through fear His cause disowning,
Foes insulting his distress:
Many hands were raised to wound Him,
None would interpose to save;
But the deepest stroke that pierced Him
Was the stroke that Justice gave.

Ye who think of sin but lightly,
Nor suppose the evil great,
Here may view its nature rightly,
Here its guilt may estimate.
Mark the Sacrifice appointed!
See Who bears the awful load!
’Tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed,
Son of Man, and Son of God.

Here we have a firm foundation,
Here the refuge of the lost.
Christ the Rock of our salvation,
Christ the Name of which we boast.
Lamb of God for sinners wounded!
Sacrifice to cancel guilt!
None shall ever be confounded
Who on Him their hope have built.

Thou Sweet Beloved Will of God

Thou sweet beloved will of God,
My anchor ground, my fortress hill
My spirit’s silent fair abode,
In Thee I hide me, and am still

O Will that willest good alone,
Lead Thou the way, Thou guidest best
A little child, I follow on,
And trusting, lean upon Thy breast.