And if such self-control goes as far even as the self-extinction of that voluntarily accepted Cross, on the green hill outside Jerusalem, even so it will bring victory at the last, because it has brought one long succession of victories over self all the days. I cut this fugitive bit of verse from a newspaper the other day:
“Pausing a moment ere the day was done,
While yet the earth was scintillant with light,
I backward glanced. From valley, plain and height,
At intervals, where my life path had run,
Rose cross on cross: and nailed upon each one
Was my dead self. And yet that gruesome sight
Lent sudden splendour to the falling night.
Showing the conquests that my soul had won.
“Up to the rising stars I looked and cried,