 | From Sunset Ridge |  |
168
A SHADOW IN THE CHRISTMAS LIGHT
December 25, 1892
The Christmas-tide was at its height,
And in the hall a joyous throng,
Their faces radiant with delight,
Waited for Handel's master song.
And in the hall a joyous throng,
Their faces radiant with delight,
Waited for Handel's master song.
The comfort that the seer foretold,
The message by the angels brought,
The shepherds watching by their fold,
The Babe, of Orient pilgrims sought.
The message by the angels brought,
The shepherds watching by their fold,
The Babe, of Orient pilgrims sought.
And thence, the scaffolding of Faith,
That builds her way to very Heaven,
The triumph over sin and Death,
The eternal promise sealed and given.
That builds her way to very Heaven,
The triumph over sin and Death,
The eternal promise sealed and given.
And “Lord of Lords” and “King of Kings,”
The chorus thundered in its might;
The ransom of created things,
The crown of victory and light.
The chorus thundered in its might;
The ransom of created things,
The crown of victory and light.
169
In all that music glad and loud,
A secret sentence came to me;
Amid the plaudits of the crowd
It only whispered “Calvary.”
A secret sentence came to me;
Amid the plaudits of the crowd
It only whispered “Calvary.”
Then from the ecstasy of sound
My spirit fled, in dark divorce,
To where a victim, stretched and bound,
Hung in the iron grasp of force.
My spirit fled, in dark divorce,
To where a victim, stretched and bound,
Hung in the iron grasp of force.
In the gloom-gathering eventide,
Dank with its dews upon his head,
With bleeding hands and piercèd side,
The Christ of whom they sing is dead.
Dank with its dews upon his head,
With bleeding hands and piercèd side,
The Christ of whom they sing is dead.
Oh! for one moment of the power
To taste that deep abysmal cup,
Serenely, in that fatal hour
To drink its bitter blackness up.
To taste that deep abysmal cup,
Serenely, in that fatal hour
To drink its bitter blackness up.
Commend me to that breaking heart
Which still its cry could Godward lift;
Let me rehearse the humblest part
In that immortal, sinless shrift!
Which still its cry could Godward lift;
Let me rehearse the humblest part
In that immortal, sinless shrift!
The world doth oft its tyrants praise,
Crowns them with splendor and with song,
Unworthy brows still wear the bays
That to earth's heroes should belong.
Crowns them with splendor and with song,
Unworthy brows still wear the bays
That to earth's heroes should belong.
170
But when to help our human need
This witness met the death abhorred,
Content to agonize and bleed,
Then was he King, then was he Lord!
This witness met the death abhorred,
Content to agonize and bleed,
Then was he King, then was he Lord!
The Earth is promised to the meek,
The pure in heart their God shall see;
But when Life's boon supreme I seek,
Lend me thy glory, Calvary.
The pure in heart their God shall see;
But when Life's boon supreme I seek,
Lend me thy glory, Calvary.
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