SIMON’S COUNTRYMEN.
They took away his seamless robe,
With thorns they crowned his head,
As harshly, fiercely cried his foes:
“Barabbas in his stead.”
The friends he loved unto the end,
Who shared his daily bread,
Before the storms of wrath and hate
Forsook their Lord and fled.
To rescue men from death and sin
He knew the awful cost,
As wearily he bent beneath
The burden of the cross.
When Pilate had decreed his fate,
And Jews withheld their aid,
Then Simon, the Cyrenean, came:
On him the cross was laid.
Not his to smite with cruel scorn,
Nor mock the dying one,
That helpful man came from the land
Kissed by the ardent sun—
The land within whose sheltering arms
The infant Jesus lay
When Herod vainly bared his sword
And sought the child to slay.
Amid the calendar of saints
We Simon’s name may trace,
On history’s page thro’ every age
He bears an honored place.
He little knew that cross would change
Unto a throne of light;
The crown of thorns upon Christ’s brow
Would be forever bright.
Beneath the shadow of that cross
Brave men with outstretched hands
Have told the wondrous tale of love
In distant heathen lands.
And yet within our favored land,
Where Christian churches rise,
The dark-browed sons of Africa
Are hated and despised.
Can they who speak of Christ as King,
And glory in his name,
Forget that Simon’s countrymen
Still bear a cross of shame?
Can they forget the cruel scorn
Men shower on a race
Who treat the hues their Father gives
As emblems of disgrace?
Will they erect to God their fanes
And Christ with honor crown,
And then with cruel weights of pain
The African press down?
Oh, Christians, when we faint and bleed
In this our native land,
Reach out to us when peeled, opprest,
A kindly helping hand,
And bear aloft that sacred cross,
Bright from the distant years,
And say for Christ’s and Simon’s sake,
We’ll wipe away your tears.
For years of sorrow, toil and pain
We’ll bring you love and light,
And in the name of Christ our Lord
We’ll make your pathway bright.
That seamless robe shall yet enfold
The children of the sun,
Till rich and poor and bond and free
In Christ shall all be one.
And for his sake from pride and scorn
Our spirits shall be free,
Till through our souls shall sound the words
He did it unto me.