They crucified him there; yea, not contentTo mock his kingship with a crown of thorns,With pain of cruel scourgings, and led onBy subtle priestcraft, jealous of its power,They sought to put to death the Son of God.He met the storm of their unreasoning hateWithout resentment, and his humble prayerBreathes down the years to us, "Father, forgive."This was the tender message all the wayThat he had walked their midst alone with God,And healed their sick, and fed each hungering heart,Yea, cast out devils, and restored their dead.

They sealed his body in the sepulcher,And posted round the door a Roman guardIn fear lest he might rise, as he had said.The things that die are greed, and selfish pride,The mad ambition of the carnal will.These sink, at length, to their own nothingness,And so are buried from the sight of men.But he, whose every thought was filled with love,Was thereby one with Life, and such an oneHad nothing to surrender unto death.Love could not die, nor humble, steadfast faithThat looked beyond the troubled dreams of sense,Beyond the shadow of the cross itself,To keep man's glorious covenant with Life.

Special Notice
April 12, 1941

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