Look upon this noble-hearted Substitute; seeing thy woes, He pitied thee,
Bowed beneath the mountain of thy sin, and perished,—but for Godhead;
There stood the Atlas in his power, and Prometheus in his love is there,
Emptying on wretched men the blessings earned from Heaven:
Put them not away, hide them in thy heart, poor and penitent receiver,
Be gratitude thy counseller to good, and wholesome fear unto obedience;
Remember, the pruning-knife is keen, cutting cankers even from the vine;
Remember, twelve were chosen, and one among them liveth—in perdition.
Yea,—for standing unatoned, the soul is a bison on the prairie,
Hunted by those trooping wolves, the many sinful yesterdays: