THE CHANGED CROSS
A little gilt-edge volume,
Its covers reddish brown,
It glossy leaves one burden bore,
Without the cross, no crown.
I turned the pages slowly,
The fly-leaf wore a name;
With eyes suffused in quick response,
I noted whence it came.
A tender message bade me
Take up the lowly cross,
For love and mercy's joint decree
Apportions every loss.
"No cross—no crown"—the mandate,
With cruel meaning falls;
The heavy-laden soul shrinks back,
The lonely way appals.
Ah, me! sweet friend, I thank thee;
This little ray of light
Steals o'er the darken'd firmament,
Illuming sorrow's night.