The Master's words—oh, how they haunt me now!
And burn like coals of vengeance on my heart;
And the word "traitor," branded on my brow,
From which I never, never more can part!
Oh, that I ne'er had seen Him, had ne'er heard
Those heavenly accents from His guileless lips;
Like hissing firebrands, in my brain each word
Quenches itself, and of my life-blood sips.
I knew, I knew such words and deeds belonged
But to the Deity, and to Him alone!
But powers of darkness all around me thronged
And longed to claim me, as I am, their own.
Oh, would I were the lowliest thing that lives,
Even a soulless, a just breathing thing!
For what is intellect, that to us gives
Such power to sin, such fearful suffering brings?
I dare not ask for pardon; He hath said
Wo to the traitor! and His word fails not;
What if I die? When He shall wake the dead,
Then shall I find I have not been forgot.
They lead Him forth! Oh, agonizing sight!
On His meek head a rugged crown of thorns;
But were it gold His brow would dim its light,
Such the pure majesty these wretches scorn.
The royal robe in mockery He wears;
They spit upon Him, and they hail Him king!
And now, O God! His heavy cross He bears,
Nor breathes one word for all His suffering.
Why do I live—oh, why behold this scene,
Whose shade will haunt me through eternity?
Off, coward fears! your slave too long I've been,
But now I am resolved, and I will die!
