THE CHANGED CROSS

A little gilt-edge volume, Its covers reddish brown, It glossy leaves one burden bore, Without the cross, no crown. I turned the pages slowly, The fly-leaf wore a name; With eyes suffused in quick response, I noted whence it came. A tender message bade me Take up the lowly cross, For love and mercy's joint decree Apportions every loss. "No cross—no crown"—the mandate, With cruel meaning falls; The heavy-laden soul shrinks back, The lonely way appals. Ah, me! sweet friend, I thank thee; This little ray of light Steals o'er the darken'd firmament, Illuming sorrow's night.