 | Sacra Poesis |  |
56
THE CRUCIFIXION.
There hung, suspended o'er the wide abyssOf dark annihilation,—this lost world!
There hung the guilt of all, the penal curse,
With all our hopes, and heavenly solaces.
And there our fears, our woes, our sorrows died;
They met in Him, who took the dreadful load
Which scarce Omnipotence could bear away!
But, lo! the serpent crush'd: that corner stone
On which all hope is built, shall once become
The new and heavenly Jerusalem,
And as the waters fill old ocean's bed
The glory of the Lord shall fill the earth!
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