University of Virginia Library

THE CROSS.

I.

Mysterious ambassage! Be reconciled,
Man, to thy Maker: to thy God return,
Poor, ruined wanderer, nor thy Saviour spurn,
Who woos thy stubborn heart in terms so mild.
Yield to his love, and be again a child.
Humbly accept what thou couldst never earn.
Look to the cross, and there thy guilt discern;
And in that fountain wash thy soul defiled.
Only believe and love.—Distasteful creed!
More harsh than harshest lore of Stoic school,
Carthusian penance, or Franciscan rule,
To man's proud heart; and terms that far exceed
His reach, until he knows himself a fool,
Accepts the boon, and finds it grace indeed.

II.

“Not this man, but Barabbas.” Dreadful choice!
Yet, such is man, and such is man's free-will;
Ever to proffered good preferring ill!
That shameful cry was fallen Nature's voice.
The world will love its own; and men rejoice
In the bold chief and lawless hero still,
And mock the saint; and persecute and kill
Those whose pure life their darkened sense annoys.
Whom does the sinner serve, his yoke accurst
Preferring to the Saviour's service mild?
Father of lies, a murderer from the first,—
So is the tyrant he has chosen styled;
The best of Lords deserting for the worst!
O Grace that can transform the rebel to a child!

III.

“Behold your King!” Look, ye to whom He gave
Your sight: and ye whose ears he opened, hear!
Ye healed ones, His royal train, draw near,
And whom his voice remanded from the grave.
What! are all silent, while his murderers rave
Against the Prince of Life?—struck dumb with fear,
Or guiltier shame? And this the brutal jeer:
“Others He saved; Himself He cannot save.”
Infinite love! He cannot:—'tis the price
Of man's redemption. Yet, Almighty power
Beams from His Cross; and while the flames devour
The flesh of that self-offered Sacrifice,
The conscious Godhead speaks:—“This very hour
Thou shalt be with thy Lord in Paradise.”

IV.

Not the contempt of the blind Pharisee,
The mockery of the sensual and the proud;
Not the perverseness of the fickle crowd,
Nor the rude soldier's heartless ribaldry;—
Not these the bitterest anguish caused to Thee,
Most loving Lord! But, to be disavowed
By coward fear with imprecations loud,
By all deserted,—this was agony.
O Love Divine, that did not then withdraw,
Dying for treacherous friends and murderous foes!
Mindful of others only, 'mid the throes
Of torturing death! For from the cross he saw
That weeping groupe, and spake: “Thou faithful one,
Behold thy Mother—Mother, lo! thy Son!”

V.

O Justice! where art thou? Is this thy law?
That One who never sinned in word or deed
Should be adjudged as guilty, and should bleed
Upon a murderer's cross? How couldst thou draw
On Him thy sword, whose life was without flaw,
Or suffer Death his warrant to exceed,
Where sin was not, sin's penalty and meed
Inflicting, while the heavens astonished saw?
“My sword was drawn, my arm was raised to smite
To endless pain, the guilty; but the blow
Mercy so turned aside, and made it light
Upon that Spotless Innocence: 'twas She
Who caused that Victim's sacred blood to flow,
Unbarred the gates of Death, and set his captives free.”

VI.

“Why, O my God, hast Thou forsaken me?”
Mysterious groanings of the Lamb of God!
Oh whence arose that plaint? As though the rod
Of penal Justice then might seem to be
Raised against Heaven's Incarnate Purity!
Alone He bore our guilt's o'erwhelming load,
And realized its doom. Hell's dark abode
Lay open: He that yawning gulf could see.
And this world's Prince came in that darkened hour,
To try with desperate malice once again
Temptation's utmost force, 'mid torturing pain,
Upon the Blessed Spoiler of his power;
But found in Him no guilt, no flaw, no stain.
That Cross his malice foils; that death subverts his reign.

VII.

He who had changed the water into wine,
Exclaims, “I thirst.” What cup of nectar sweet,
Tendered by duteous zeal, were offering meet
To Him, the Fount of Life, the Living Vine?
Saviour of Men, what cupbearers were Thine!
They raised a sponge with vinegar replete:—
Did the rude soldiers thus in mockery treat
The Crucified, or with humane design?
He had refused the medicated cup.
Meekly He now the proffered draught receives;
For so it was foretold. Thus draining up
The cup that might not pass from Him, He leaves
No drop of wrath. But, of the wine He gives,
Who thirsts may drink; and whoso drinketh, lives.

VIII.

'Tis finished;—every circumstance fulfilled;
The conflict o'er; the sacrifice complete.
So He laid down His life, and went to meet
Death in his own domain:—not till He willed,
Yielding His breath; self-offered, but not killed.
That voice of power, it spoke of Hell's defeat;
It rent the veil before the mercy-seat;
Through the dark regions of the dead it thrilled:—
Earth trembled; and the solid rocks were rent;
The Grave its Victor, its Invader, knew.
No need of costly balms, with fond intent
That which saw no corruption to imbue.
Go, seal the stone, and all approach prevent.—
He burst the bands of death, and Heaven's gate open threw.

IX.

“Innocent blood I basely have betrayed,”
Exclaimed the wretched Traitor, conscience-stung,
As on the temple's marble court he flung
The accursed silver by the murderers paid.
“I find no fault in him,” the Roman said:
“What evil hath he done?” But still among
The tutored faction, “Crucify him!” rung.”
So Pilate called for water; and he laid
On them the crime, as with washed hands he stood,
Proclaiming, “I am guiltless of His blood.”
And, as He hung beneath the darkened sun,
The trembling soldier owned the murderous deed:—
A threefold witness—thus they all agreed:—
“Truly this was the Christ, the Righteous One.”

X.

With blood, but not his own, the awful sign
At once of sin's desert and guilt's remission,
The Jew besought the clemency Divine,
The hope of mercy blending with contrition.
Sin must have death: its holy requisition
The Law may not relax. The opening tomb
Expects its prey; mere respite, life's condition;
Nor can the body shun its penal doom.
Yet there is mercy: wherefore else delay
To punish? Why the victim and the rite?
But can the type and symbol take away
The guilt, and for a broken law requite?
The Cross unfolds the mystery. Jesus died:
The sinner lives: the Law is satisfied.

XI.

XII.

The peace of God! Oh boon beyond all price!
A blood-besprinkled conscience; never known
By those who fondly dream they can atone
For sins untold, by aught of man's device;
By costly rites or bloody sacrifice,
Long pilgrimage, lean fast, or vigils lone,
The torturing scourge, or hermit's couch of stone.
One Cross alone can lead to Paradise.
The servile rites of ignorance and fear,
Reluctant worship of a heart estranged,
That leave the stubborn nature still unchanged,
Change not his law, nor turn aside his rod.
But to the Mercy-seat thro' Christ draw near,
And, justified by faith, thou shalt have peace with God.