 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
LACRYMÆ DEI.
We read in Holy writ, and doubt it not,
If still false Judas on it stab his blot,
Who creeps to murder as he always crept,
That twice in His great beautiful pure Life,
Which orbed with evening hush a world at strife,
Christ wept.
If still false Judas on it stab his blot,
Who creeps to murder as he always crept,
That twice in His great beautiful pure Life,
Which orbed with evening hush a world at strife,
Christ wept.
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Once at the grave of Lazarus, the dear
Foredoomed disciple, fell the human tear,
Which woke the slumberer where he darkly slept;
And as He saw the black procession wind
Through ages, that one stricken group behind,
Christ wept.
Foredoomed disciple, fell the human tear,
Which woke the slumberer where he darkly slept;
And as He saw the black procession wind
Through ages, that one stricken group behind,
Christ wept.
Again, when on Him flashed in starry state,
Matchless, white marble front and golden gate,
That with the kindred skies proud concert kept,
When all around was triumph glad and bright,
And all within a sorrow deep as night.
Christ wept.
Matchless, white marble front and golden gate,
That with the kindred skies proud concert kept,
When all around was triumph glad and bright,
And all within a sorrow deep as night.
Christ wept.
And we are sure, that in His childhood sweet,
While lay Creation curbed beneath His feet,
And awful angels at His bidding stept,
Yet then at times in natural tender grief,
Which even to Him gave some Divine relief,
Christ wept.
While lay Creation curbed beneath His feet,
And awful angels at His bidding stept,
Yet then at times in natural tender grief,
Which even to Him gave some Divine relief,
Christ wept.
And still, in poet's universal thought
Of sadness, into song celestial wrought,
While vengeance He in vain foreboded creeps
Grim and unmarked, on fools that dine and dance,
Blown to and fro by wind of circumstance,
God weeps.
Of sadness, into song celestial wrought,
While vengeance He in vain foreboded creeps
Grim and unmarked, on fools that dine and dance,
Blown to and fro by wind of circumstance,
God weeps.
In thundering lines, that like a battle shout
Shake the close ranks of dim and stubborn doubt,
When the drugged soldier on his watch-tower sleeps,
That knocks at tombs, where splendid spirits lie
Bound with the grave clothes of a harlot tie,
God weeps.
Shake the close ranks of dim and stubborn doubt,
When the drugged soldier on his watch-tower sleeps,
That knocks at tombs, where splendid spirits lie
Bound with the grave clothes of a harlot tie,
God weeps.
In the wild ballad from the breaking heart,
Fashioned of flame and storm and iron dart,
At woman's woe that endless vigil keeps,
Flung like a firebrand in the gilded pelf,
With burning words that pierce the Heaven itself,
God weeps.
Fashioned of flame and storm and iron dart,
At woman's woe that endless vigil keeps,
Flung like a firebrand in the gilded pelf,
With burning words that pierce the Heaven itself,
God weeps.
In the lone voice uplifted for the right
Against the rule of gold, and monstrous might
That innocents and all to ruin sweeps—
When lost the baby opens its pure eyes
To see but sin, and closes them and dies,—
God weeps.
Against the rule of gold, and monstrous might
That innocents and all to ruin sweeps—
When lost the baby opens its pure eyes
To see but sin, and closes them and dies,—
God weeps.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |