And after they had mocked him, they took the robe off from him, and put his own raimant on him;--and he bearing his cross, went forth. --Evangelist.
Curses rang loud as they his thrall
Beheld, and proud lips curled,
When bowed within that marble hall,
The Saviour of the world;
When the fell glance of hell he met
With unreproving eye;
And for reproach, implored yet,
Forgiveness from on high.
More to be worshipped in his grief
And meekness, there alone,
On that stern floor, the loftiest chief
That reared or razed a throne;
More to be loved, the Sinless then
In his agony and cries,
Bruised by the Father's hand, than when
He curtained out the skies.
Not in the scoff and maddening shout,
The cup--it was not there;
But in the wrath that hung about,
And the silence for his prayer;
Oh! when he sank 'twas not the tree
That crush'd the God within;
But the withering frown of Deity,
The malison for sin.