 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
Lent
OR, THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS
On a low hill, methought, a Cross I sawLift its dark form athwart the orient sky,
Where day was breaking in calm majesty—
Azure and gold without one stain or flaw.
From that stern Sign of vindicated Law,
Which in the sunrise loomed upon mine eye,
Right o'er the land a shadow seemed to lie,
On which I moved along in silent awe.
Ah, would we bask in Easter's glorious ray,
Our feet must track the shadow of the Cross,
Our hearts must count all earthly treasure loss,
And earthly pleasure reckon but as dross;
So shall our Lenten dimness melt away
In the clear light of Resurrection-day!
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