Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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CRUCIFIED AFRESH. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
CRUCIFIED AFRESH.
I had a vision of a Tree,
Which men had grimly planted,
A thing that breathed and panted
And dolorous and dread to see;
It spread abroad two mighty arms,
As under black and bitter charms
Accursed and enchanted.
But all the heaven above was dark,
Earth trembled and stood still,
The whole creation's populations
Were dumb, and dimly seemed to hark
The Maker's awful will.
Which men had grimly planted,
A thing that breathed and panted
And dolorous and dread to see;
It spread abroad two mighty arms,
As under black and bitter charms
Accursed and enchanted.
But all the heaven above was dark,
Earth trembled and stood still,
The whole creation's populations
Were dumb, and dimly seemed to hark
The Maker's awful will.
And on the Tree a Sacred Form
Hung in exceeding sadness,
Yet conquered by the gladness
That shook him like a summer storm;
Innumerable fiends and foes
Heaped on Him shameful words and woes,
In murder and in madness.
With savage scorn each cruel thrust
Of crimson nails and spears,
Was through his riven bosom driven;
But could not slay His solemn trust,
Which triumphed over fears.
Hung in exceeding sadness,
Yet conquered by the gladness
That shook him like a summer storm;
Innumerable fiends and foes
Heaped on Him shameful words and woes,
In murder and in madness.
With savage scorn each cruel thrust
Of crimson nails and spears,
Was through his riven bosom driven;
But could not slay His solemn trust,
Which triumphed over fears.
But in a moment then I saw
The multitudes departed,
Which had in hate upstarted,
And I alone was left in awe.
For, ah, those hostile hands were mine
Which stabbed the Blessed One Divine,
So dear and broken-hearted.
My sins had daily pierced Him sore,
And were a scourging rod;
Though that red-fruited tree was rooted
With burdens I had made the more,
Within the heart of God.
The multitudes departed,
Which had in hate upstarted,
And I alone was left in awe.
For, ah, those hostile hands were mine
Which stabbed the Blessed One Divine,
So dear and broken-hearted.
My sins had daily pierced Him sore,
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Though that red-fruited tree was rooted
With burdens I had made the more,
Within the heart of God.
For every time I chose to stray
And fell or freely stumbled,
With pride still never humbled,
The suffering on His shoulder lay;
And His the anguish and the loss,
When resolutions turned to dross
Or faiths beneath me crumbled.
And if I yielded to the flesh
For which He greatly died,
Those wounds with weeping from their sleeping
Burst open all and bled afresh,
And He was crucified.
And fell or freely stumbled,
With pride still never humbled,
The suffering on His shoulder lay;
And His the anguish and the loss,
When resolutions turned to dross
Or faiths beneath me crumbled.
And if I yielded to the flesh
For which He greatly died,
Those wounds with weeping from their sleeping
Burst open all and bled afresh,
And He was crucified.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |