340 REDEMPTION.
But now whose brow, with teeming joy, receives The impress of the ascending Master's feet, Hard by Bethania, way oft trod before, And late in sorrow, when his anguish'd soul, In agony of sweat and blood thrice bow'd, Drain'd the last dregs his bitter chalice held. More glorious now that spot, whence, sorrows o'er, Redemption's battle fought, the vict'ry won, Triumphant he assumes his heav'nly throne. Beside a grove of olives, thus he stands, Transparent robed his form, brighter than when The flow'ry top of Thabor first beheld His earthly to celestial pure transform'd; Irradiant light his godlike brow adorns, Beamy with smiles, with tenderness and love ; Not lonesome stands, deserted, sole, depress'd, As when his own forsook him, base betray'd ; But round him, who erst fled, now closely cling, Forgiven their default, their feeble faith, And, weeping, these his parting words attend : " 'Tis needful for you that I hence depart, And to my Father, as I said, return, To yours and mine, your places to prepare, That were I am, ye also may abide. Strangers ye are, and all who me believe, In this fall'n world, created once so fair, Scarce less than heav'n endow'd, fitted for man, But little lower than the angels made, Now alienate from God, pollute by sin, Though by my sacrificial death redeem'd ; Strangers and pilgrims, who no city have, No lasting biding place, where ye may stay.
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