 | Songs Old and New |  |
260
THE TWO ACCUSATIONS.
Across stands black against the last pale glow
Of that dread day that twice was veiled in night;
The form that quivered there when noon was high
Rests low amidst the shrouds and spices now,
And reverent hands have wiped the thorn-crowned brow.
But where it bowed at noon, death-dewed and white,
The Roman's accusation meets my sight,
Earth's homage rendered in her own despite,
Proclaiming in three tongues thy Right Divine!
Of that dread day that twice was veiled in night;
The form that quivered there when noon was high
Rests low amidst the shrouds and spices now,
And reverent hands have wiped the thorn-crowned brow.
But where it bowed at noon, death-dewed and white,
The Roman's accusation meets my sight,
Earth's homage rendered in her own despite,
Proclaiming in three tongues thy Right Divine!
Yet as I gaze my heart discovers there
Another accusation black and clear;
These were the crimes that slew Thee!—They are mine!
But it is torn, and stained with sacred blood;
No more a sentence, but a pardon sealed by God.
Another accusation black and clear;
These were the crimes that slew Thee!—They are mine!
But it is torn, and stained with sacred blood;
No more a sentence, but a pardon sealed by God.
July 1862.
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