A CONTRASTED PICTURE.
Reading edition
FROM 'PASSION ODE,' AN UNPUBLISHED POEM BY J. RHEYN PIKSOHN
I.
It was a glorious day When, on the winding way That led to Salem's towers and temple high, From the assembled throng Loud burst the choral song: 'Hosanna in the highest!' rang the cry; While shouting thousands lined the road, And boughs of palm before triumphant Jesus strowed.
II.
'Tis morning: and again The mighty crowds of men Tread Salem's streets and throng her towers high; Their many-voiced roar Swells louder than before, But 'crucify him!' is the savage cry; The furious curse the welkin tore, 'His blood be on us and our children ever more!'
III.
In vain false Pilate stands; No washing of the hands Clears from the heart the tinct of innocent blood. The crowd, with cruel care, Load his shoulders bare, Like Isaac's, with the sacrificial wood: And the red lash, with many a blow, Scourges his faltering steps along the road of wo.
IV.
Nor stripes, nor mockery, Nor heaped-up agony, Can wring from infinite Love one vengeful word: While suffering Jesus stands Amidst your pagan bands, And ye laugh round, ye cruel hearts abhorred, Hear the Lord's dying prayer for you: 'Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do!'
V.
Through the city doors The shouting tumult pours, And up the steep of Calvary they wind; Golgotha! on thee They plant the accursed tree; No pity can the God of pity find. Pierced were the hands that gave them bread. And fast 'the beauteous feet that brought good tidings' bled!