reins of self-control;
And struggled with his hated thrall,
Until he rent his chain,
And strove to stand erect and free,
And be a man again.
When others came with tempting words
He coldly turned aside.
But she who held the sparkling cup
Was his affianced bride;
And like a vision of delight.
Bright, beautiful and fair,
With thoughtless words she wove for him
The meshes of despair.
From jeweled hands he took the cup,
Nor heard the serpent’s hiss;
Nor saw beneath its ruby glow
The deadly adder’s hiss.
Like waves that madly, wildly dash,
When dykes are overthrown.
The barriers of his soul gave way,
Each life with wrecks was strewn.
And she who might have reached her hand
To succor and to save,
Soon wept in hopeless agony
Above a drunkard’s grave.
And bore through life with bleeding heart
Remembrance of that night,
When she had urged the tempted man
With wine to make his plight.
Christ’s Entry Into Jerusalem
He had plunged into our sorrows,
And our sin had pierced his heart,
As before him loomed death’s shadow,
And he knew he must depart.
But they hailed him as a victor
As he into Salem came,
And the very children shouted
Loud hosannas to his name.
Bat he knew behind that triumph,
Rising gladly to the sky,
Soon would come the cries of malice:
Crucify him! Crucify!
Onward rode the blessed Saviour,
Conscious of the coming strife
Soon to break in storms of hatred
Round his dear, devoted life.
Ghastly in its fearful anguish
Rose the cross before his eyes,
But he saw the joy beyond it,
And did all the shame despise.
Joy to see the cry of scorning
Through the ages ever bright,
And the cross of shame transfigured
To a throne of love and light.
Joy to know his soul’s deep travail
Should not he a thing in vain,
And that joy and peace should blossom
From his agonizing pain.
The Resurrection of Jesus
It was done, the deed of horror;
Christ had died upon the cross,
And within an upper chamber
The disciples mourned their loss.
Peter’s eyes were full of anguish,
Thinking sadly of the trial
When his boasted self-reliance
Ended in his Lord’s denial.
Disappointment, deep and heavy,
Shrouded every heart with gloom,
As the hopes so fondly cherished
Died around the garden tomb.
And they thought with shame and sorrow
How they fled in that dark hour,
When they saw their Lord and Master
In the clutch of Roman power.
We had hoped, they sadly uttered,
He would over Israel reign,
But to-day he lies sepulchred.
And our cherished hopes are vain.
In the humble home of Mary
Slowly waned the hours away,
Till she rose to seek the garden
And the place where Jesus lay.
Not the cross with all its anguish
Could her loving heart restrain,
But the tomb she sought was empty,
And her heart o’erflowed with pain.
To embalm my Lord and Master
To this garden I have strayed.
But, behold, I miss his body.
And I know not where he’s laid.
Then a wave of strange emotion
Swept her soul, as angels said,
“Wherefore do ye seek the living
’Mid the chambers of the dead?”
Unperceived, her Lord stood by her,
Silent witness of her grief,
Bearing on his lips the tidings
Sure to bring a glad relief.
But her tear-dimmed eyes were holden
When she heard the Master speak;
Thought she, only ’tis the gardener
Asking whom her soul did seek.
Then a sudden flush of gladness
O’er her grief-worn features spread;
When she knew the voice of Jesus
All her bitter anguish fled.
Forth she reached hands in rapture.
Touch me not, the Saviour said;
Take the message to my brethren,
I have risen from the dead.
Take them words of joy and comfort,
Which will all their mourning end;
To their Father and my Father,
Tell them that I will ascend.
“Brethren, I have seen the Master:
He is risen from the dead.”
But like words of idle meaning
Seemed the glorious words she said.
Soon they saw the revelation
Which would bid their mourning cease;
Christ, the risen, stood before them
Breathing words of love and peace.
Timid men were changed to heroes,
Weakness turned to wondrous might.
And the cross became their standard,
Luminous with love and light.
From that lonely upper chamber,
Holding up the rugged cross,
With a glad and bold surrender
They encountered shame and loss.
In these days of doubt and error,
In the conflict for the right,
May our hearts be ever strengthened
By the resurrection’s might.
Simon’s Countrymen
They took away his seamless robe,
With thorns they crowned his head,
As harshly, fiercely cried his foes:
“Barabbas in his stead.”
The friends he loved unto the end,
Who shared his daily bread,
Before the storms of wrath and hate
Forsook their Lord and fled.
To rescue men from death and sin
He knew the awful cost.
As wearily he bent beneath
The burden of the cross.
When Pilate had decreed his fate.
And Jews withheld their aid,
Then Simon, the Cyrenean, came:
On him the cross was laid.
Not his to smite with cruel scorn,
Nor mock the dying one,
That helpful man came from the land
Kissed by the ardent sun—
The land within whose sheltering arms
The infant Jesus lay
When Herod vainly bared his sword
And sought the child to slay.
Amid the calendar of saints
We Simon’s name may trace,
On history’s page thro’ every age
He bears an honored place.
He little knew that cross would change
Unto a throne of light;
The crown of thorns upon Christ’s brow
Would be forever bright.
Beneath the shadow of that cross
Brave men wdth outstretched hands
Have told the wondrous tale of love
In distant heathen lands.
And yet within our favored land,
Where Christian churches rise,
The dark-browed sons of Africa
Are hated and despised.
Can they who speak of Christ as King,
And glory in his name,
Forget that Simon’s countiymen
Still bear a cross of shame?
Can they forget the cruel scorn
Men shower on a race
Who treat the hues their Father gives
As emblems of disgrace?
Will they erect to God their fanes
And Christ with honor crown,
And then with cruel weights of pain
The African press down?
Oh, Christians, when we faint and bleed
In this our native land,
Reach out to us when peeled,
