[A CONTRASTED PICTURE.]
FROM 'PASSION ODE,' AN UNPUBLISHED POEM BY J. RHEYN PIKSOHN
I.
It was a glorious day
When, on the winding way
That led to Salem's towers and temple high,
From the assembled throng
Loud burst the choral song:
'Hosanna in the highest!' rang the cry;
While shouting thousands lined the road,
And boughs of palm before triumphant Jesus strowed.
II.
'Tis morning: and again
The mighty crowds of men
Tread Salem's streets and throng her towers high;
Their many-voiced roar
Swells louder than before,
But 'crucify him!' is the savage cry;
The furious curse the welkin tore,
'His blood be on us and our children ever more!'
III.
In vain false Pilate stands;
No washing of the hands
Clears from the heart the tinct of innocent blood.
The crowd, with cruel care,
Load his shoulders bare,
Like Isaac's, with the sacrificial wood:
And the red lash, with many a blow,
Scourges his faltering steps along the road of wo.