Christ Entering Jerusalem.
Over the Mount of Olives the Master
Took his way, from Bethany old
To Jerusalem, caring not that disaster
Might block his path, as onward bold
He pressed, with gracious mien, the while,
Treading the garden of Bethpage,
Whose fruit and sunlight both did smile
Upon this mighty sage.
With wondering eye and steadfast awe
The gathering rabble came behind
Him; they knew not creed nor law,
But that he healed the blind
And bade the halt go free.
Weary and spent, an ass was brought
Him from Bethpage, so did he
Hide; and then from out
The multitude, in trenchant tones there broke
Triumphal acclamations: yet
Through it all, he never spoke
In praise nor anger. Palms met
Above his head, e'en branches cut
And waved by hands that knew him not,
Commemorative and regnant all, but
He, the only son of God begot,
Meekly led the way to Jerusalem.
The preparation of that great feast,
The Passover, was begun; and to stem
The crowded throng, from West to East
Beyond its wall, was almost vain.
With heterogeneous life the city
Trembled. Outlying khans and caves again
Were peopled with a class to pity.
Three million souls, all in that time
Were there, in suburb and Jerusalem;
A rangling horde of reek and slime—
For know ye well that now and then
Were two extremes. No assuaging
Moral, and physical agencies with which
To heal and lessen human suffering;
And even a doctor's lance and stitch
Were all, alas, unknown to men.
Slaves the one half, and the other
Monsters. Rome had so far driven
Her cohorts over hearts of mother,
Brother, friend and foe, hearthstones
And shrines, all, all were as nought—
The dead and their reeking bones,
The height of that Rome sought.
What wonder then, the lame and blind,
The leper and the madman came
To feel a touch so sweetly kind
As Christ's—the blessed name?
They threw themselves before him,
Kissed his garment's trailing hem,
And with glazed eyes, and dim,
Plead for succor—Alleluia, Amen!
Calmly he decends from off the ass,
And with uplifted hands,
He bade the tumult cease,
Kindly, for only pity for the band
Fills Jesus' heart; he lays a gentle touch
Upon the dead babe of a mother wild
With frantic grief, for even such
As these, he said in accents mild,
"Let the little ones come unto me."
Arab, Bedouin, Nubian-all these were there-
Every phrase of human life and misery;
Even the beautiful and fair
Greek maiden, who doth hope to learn
More of Jesus' wide-spread fame,
And in her youthful heart, a yearn
His love and grace to claim.
Through the groups, so base and motley,
Semitic, Hellenic and even Coptic faces,
Bethlehem shepherds and the noted pharisee,
Men of every class—all races,
Bow in homage, now his skill
To seek; yet doubt and disdain,
Stand also there, and if so, still
Why come they, if in vain?
A Judean sunset covers all
And bathes the features of Messiah
With a glory—not a pall.
St. John, who is ever nigh, a
Man who speaks unto the throng,
Of peace and joy through Him
Who doeth all things well; a song
His voice, it is so kindly. Twilight dim
Falls upon them ere they part;
Palm branches strew the ground before
Our Lord, and every grateful heart
Yields to his power for evermore.
Took his way, from Bethany old
To Jerusalem, caring not that disaster
Might block his path, as onward bold
He pressed, with gracious mien, the while,
Treading the garden of Bethpage,
Whose fruit and sunlight both did smile
Upon this mighty sage.
With wondering eye and steadfast awe
The gathering rabble came behind
Him; they knew not creed nor law,
But that he healed the blind
And bade the halt go free.
Weary and spent, an ass was brought
Him from Bethpage, so did he
Hide; and then from out
The multitude, in trenchant tones there broke
Triumphal acclamations: yet
Through it all, he never spoke
In praise nor anger. Palms met
Above his head, e'en branches cut
And waved by hands that knew him not,
Commemorative and regnant all, but
He, the only son of God begot,
Meekly led the way to Jerusalem.
The preparation of that great feast,
The Passover, was begun; and to stem
The crowded throng, from West to East
Beyond its wall, was almost vain.
With heterogeneous life the city
Trembled. Outlying khans and caves again
Were peopled with a class to pity.
Three million souls, all in that time
Were there, in suburb and Jerusalem;
A rangling horde of reek and slime—
For know ye well that now and then
Were two extremes. No assuaging
Moral, and physical agencies with which
To heal and lessen human suffering;
And even a doctor's lance and stitch
Were all, alas, unknown to men.
Slaves the one half, and the other
Monsters. Rome had so far driven
Her cohorts over hearts of mother,
Brother, friend and foe, hearthstones
And shrines, all, all were as nought—
The dead and their reeking bones,
The height of that Rome sought.
What wonder then, the lame and blind,
The leper and the madman came
To feel a touch so sweetly kind
As Christ's—the blessed name?
They threw themselves before him,
Kissed his garment's trailing hem,
And with glazed eyes, and dim,
Plead for succor—Alleluia, Amen!
Calmly he decends from off the ass,
And with uplifted hands,
He bade the tumult cease,
Kindly, for only pity for the band
Fills Jesus' heart; he lays a gentle touch
Upon the dead babe of a mother wild
With frantic grief, for even such
As these, he said in accents mild,
"Let the little ones come unto me."
Arab, Bedouin, Nubian-all these were there-
Every phrase of human life and misery;
Even the beautiful and fair
Greek maiden, who doth hope to learn
More of Jesus' wide-spread fame,
And in her youthful heart, a yearn
His love and grace to claim.
Through the groups, so base and motley,
Semitic, Hellenic and even Coptic faces,
Bethlehem shepherds and the noted pharisee,
Men of every class—all races,
Bow in homage, now his skill
To seek; yet doubt and disdain,
Stand also there, and if so, still
Why come they, if in vain?
A Judean sunset covers all
And bathes the features of Messiah
With a glory—not a pall.
St. John, who is ever nigh, a
Man who speaks unto the throng,
Of peace and joy through Him
Who doeth all things well; a song
His voice, it is so kindly. Twilight dim
Falls upon them ere they part;
Palm branches strew the ground before
Our Lord, and every grateful heart
Yields to his power for evermore.