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The Crown of Thorns.
High on the altar lay the cirque of gold,
The heavy crown of kingliness and care,
And he reached out to take it, but the air
Was thick with doubt, and voices manifold
Forewarning, “Sire, thine arms are over bold!”
Then, as his hands sank crownless, he was ware
Of Christ's face, pale and pitiful, in His hair
He saw the thorns they crowned Him with of old.
The heavy crown of kingliness and care,
And he reached out to take it, but the air
Was thick with doubt, and voices manifold
Forewarning, “Sire, thine arms are over bold!”
Then, as his hands sank crownless, he was ware
Of Christ's face, pale and pitiful, in His hair
He saw the thorns they crowned Him with of old.
And at that sign of Christ, so crowned with pain,
So lonely in the sorrow of a King,
So kingly in His sorrow's loneliness,
He felt the strength that could upbear the stress
Of all the pain his crown of thorns would bring,
And dared to claim the kingship and to reign.
So lonely in the sorrow of a King,
So kingly in His sorrow's loneliness,
He felt the strength that could upbear the stress
Of all the pain his crown of thorns would bring,
And dared to claim the kingship and to reign.
The cross was no empty ornament to him; it was the experience of his heart; it was the confession of his mouth. The Emperor related once how in Königsberg when he was to take the crown from the altar and place it on his head his heart trembled, his hand shrunk back, as it were, from the heavy responsibility attached to the crown, till his eye fell on the crown of thorns of his Heavenly King, and this sight strengthened and encouraged him. (See Dr. Kugel's “Funeral Sermons,” as reported in the Standard of March 17th, 1888.)
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