“HE SAVED OTHERS.”
When scorn, and hate, and bitter envious pride
Hurled all their darts against the Crucified,
Found they no fault but this in Him so tried?
“He saved others!”
Those hands, thousands their healing touches knew;
On withered limbs they fell like heavenly dew;
The dead have felt them, and have lived anew:
“He saved others.”
The blood is dropping slowly from them now;
Thou canst not raise them to Thy thorn-crown'd brow,
Nor on them Thy parched lips and forehead bow:
“He saved others!”
That Voice from out their graves the dead hath stirred;
Crushed, outcast hearts, grew joyful as they heard;
For every woe it had a healing word:
“He saved others!”
For all Thou hadst deep tones of sympathy—
Hast Thou no word for this Thine agony?
Thou pitiedst all; doth no man pity Thee?
“He saved others!”
So many fettered hearts Thy touch hath freed,
Physician! and Thy wounds unstanched must bleed;
Hast Thou no balm for this Thy sorest need?
“He saved others!”
Lord! and one sign from Thee could rend the sky,
One word from Thee, and low those mockers lie;
Thou mak'st no movement, utterest no cry,
And savest us.
