On whom it was a joy to look upon—
This was A Prince of men-honest and true,
And strangely at his heart a wonder grew!
And Pilate standing for The State had freed
Awed by The Man, did even intercede
With Piety and Greed-to set. HIм free.
This Roman Governor could plainly see
That envy of This Being was the Cause
And not for love of any Roman laws-
And He who was all brusque to sweep aside
Carrion of men, careless how they died,
Halted, perplexed-and strangely ill at ease.

Wanting to free HIM, yet Jew Leaders please, For he could see the rabble but the mouth Whereby the Leaders shrieked their hatred out. And then this message from his wife-his mind In crafty flight sought to and fro to find An outlet feasible-some two-faced plan For He was awed before This Silent Man! And had not Satan Self been there to guideThe High Priest wrath-CHRIST by Him ne'er had died! Tho' Satan failed with Pilate-with the priests He won his victory-made them howling beasts Ravening for blood-Put in their mouth that cry That surely enemies would not let die,

"Thou art no Friend of Cæsar!" struck his ears The spirit quailed-and groped in coward fears. For tho' Capraria isle was far away—

The Pearl of Islands glorious in display

Blue waters and blue skies—and sun kissed shore

Where Art and Nature poured a priceless store
To make the aged Cæsar satisfied-

Where not a sense of Human was denied

Where Vice and Beauty laughed and danced together
O'er marble floors-amid Spring's gayest weather-
And Cæsar envious in the clutch of age
Gloating o'er that he may no more engage
'Mid that Debauchery-had open ears
For that word "Treason."

So human fears

Swept all the Spirit's questioning aside,
The cry of Treason shattered all his pride-
How God and Evil fought within his breast
He by hand washing openly confessed.

Surely 'twas Satan that inspired that Cry
Shouted on Earth but registered on high-
And standing yet before the human eye
Tho' weary, weary centuries gone by-
Each year gives answer to that fell desire
By hunger, thirst, by rack, by spear and fire,
By dire contumely, by hate and scorn,
The Fatal Boon they cried for on that morn
Hath rested of the Children of The Men
Who in desire of vengeance fierce to win-
Cried out to Pilate-with THAT CHRIST in view:

"His Blood be on us, on our Children too!"

Then when the Coward Judge gave fell command
Didst thou unseen mingle with soldier band
To urge them spit upon that silent face-
Or didst thou not shrink back a little space
In pity of this SOLITARY ONE

On whom Satanic hate was fixed upon-
For surely it was Satan led the Route-
And tho' unseen struck fiercely at the mouth
Of HIM who treated with a proud disdain-
Surely around THE CHRIST Satanic train.

Pressed close to show the hatred of the heart-
Tho' Human eyes saw not-and nerved each hand
Of Human being who around HIM stand
To do HIM vileness. And the mockery

Of Crown, and Robe, and Sceptre, Satan's jest.
And he and his great Lords in maddening quest
For outrage-surely pained thy Soul to see!-

And when THE VICTIM sent to Herod's house
Surely Prince Satan led that loud carouse,
The human saw not on that early morn
The Revelry of Hell-the hate and scorn.
Displayed by Satan-but the Angels saw
From Heaven ramparts, in a speechless awe,
Wassail of Hell around GOD'S ONLY SON!
For Demons dreamed they had most surely won
A victory-and surely did let loose

A flood of Insult, and of foul abuse,
Astonishing to Angels-who were dumb

Breathless in wonderment what next to come.

The human eyes that through house lattice peered Saw but the rabble as they slowly neared

Then passed to street where Herod's Palace stood-
They saw the humans who in angry flood
Pressed round the Galilean with wild cries-
'Twas VICTIM, street, mad Rabble, to their eyes-
But Angels saw myriads of demons there
Polluting all the sweet fresh morning air
With their lascivious malice-saw the street
Crowded from end to end with noiseless feet
Thick as dead leaves of forest in the fall-
And their loud shouting like to tempest's brawl
Beat to the skies defiance fierce and strong-
With Satan leading Weary CHRIST along!
This was Satanic triumph most complete-
A Royal Highway surely this grim street.
A victor with a Captive at his heels-
A silent Captive who makes no appeals
For help to THE JEHOVAH who looks on
At this vile Insult to HIS ONLY SON!

Closed are thy lips-nor never will relate
Of that weird journey to the outer gate-
Up to the spot which like a skull grinned there-
And did the Demon legions still rend air
With taunts and insults to THE SUFFERing One,
Who with the weary, tottering feet went on
Nor rallied back at His enemies-not made

One mention of the insults on HIM laid.

Then the three Crosses standing in the sunWas Satan confident of victory won

Or did He breathless stand, His Great Lords nigh,
To see if GOD would let The Victim die-
For was it not a mystery to him

How GOD had let the nails pierce every limb-
Where would the rescue be-and when the hour
This patient CHRIST would ask JEHOVAH'S power.
Surely his Demons circled all around,

Thick as the grass that held that hilly mound,
Fearing each moment Michael's trump to hear-
It was a time of gladness, and of fear-
As one who stands tiptoe to wait event
Each passing minute joy and terror lent,
Aye, every sense expectantly was bent,

Like lake-now still-and now with tempest rent.

And what your thought when sudden darkness came—
Did you hoarse whisper-'Tis at last our shame!
But as the Seconds into Minutes grew

And such to Hours-the closer Demons drew
Around that Cross-atrembling for the end—
Waiting what Blight JEHOVAH yet would send—
All listening for the quivering of air
That may foretell of Michael's hosts anear-
And as they came not, Satan's hopes grew high
What, would JEHOVAH let THE VICTIM Die!
Then from the Darkness rang the Dying Cry—
"TIS FINISHED!"

Satan knew that CHRIST was dead!

But e'er a shout of triumph could be said

There swept down Heaven's Armies from on high,