Cradle Songs. 55 10. LIFTING UP TO THE CROSS. "But Jesus answered and said, Ye know not what ye ask. Are ye able to drink of the cup that I shall drink of, and to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with? They say unto him, We are able." OFT have I read of sunny realms, where skies are pure at even, And sight goes deep in lucid air, and earth seems nearer Heaven, And wheresoe'er you lift your eyes, the holy Cross, they say, Stands guardian of your journey, by lone or crowded way; And I have mused how awfully its shadows and its gleams Might haply fall on infants' eyes, and mingle with their dreams, And draw them up by silent power of its o'er-shading arm, And deepen on the tender brow Christ's seal and saintly charm. Oft have I read, and dream'd, and now behold a token true! A maiden from a distant isle, where Faith is fresh of hue, Where Memory tarries, to reprove our cold irreverent age, In churches set like stars around some saintly hermitage ;— Where old Devotion lingers beside the granite Cross, And pilgrims seek the healing well, far over moor and moss, A noble-hearted maiden, from a believing shore, Is by, to see Christ's little ones Him crucified adore. Upon a verdant hillock the sacred sign appears, A damsel on no trembling arm an eager babe up rears, With a sister's yearning love, and an elder sister's pride, She lifts the new-baptized, to greet the Friend who for him died.* * A traveller from Ireland witnessed this scene on the Continent, and described it to the Author. Lifting up to the Cross. 57 Who may the maiden's thought divine, performing thus in sight Of all the heavenly Watchers her pure unbidden rite? While fearless to those awful Lips her treasure she would raise, I see her features shrink, as though she fain would downward gaze. Perchance a breath of self-reproach is fluttering round her heart : Thou, darling, in our Saviour mayst for certain claim thy part: The dews baptismal bright and keen are glistening on thy brow, He cannot choose but own thee, in His arms received e'en now. But much I've sinn'd and little wept : will He not say, 'Begone?' I dare not meet His searching eye; my penance is undone. But thou and thy good Angel, who nerves mine arm to bear And lift thee up so near Him, will strive for me in prayer." Or chanced the Thorny Crown her first upseeking glance to win, And the deep lines of agony traced by the whole world's sin? Oh, deeply in her bosom went the thought, draw so nigh "Who Unto those awful Lips, and share the Lord's departing sigh, Who knoweth what mysterious pledge upon their souls is bound, To copy in their own hearts' blood each keen and bitter Wound? If of the dying JESUS we the Kiss of Peace receive, How but in daily dying thenceforward dare we live ? "And was it meet, thou tender flower, on thy young life to lay Such burden, pledging thee to vows thou never canst unsay? What if the martyrs' fire some day thy dainty limbs devour ? What if beneath the scourge they writhe, or in dull famine cower? Lifting up to the Cross. 59 What if thou bear the cross within, all aching and decay?— And 'twas I that laid it on thee-what if thou fall away ?" Such is Love's deep misgiving, when, stronger far than Faith, She brings her earthly darlings to the Cross for life or death. O, be Thou present in that hour, high Comforter, to lead Her memory to th' eternal Law, by the great King decreed, What time the highly favoured one who on His bosom lay, And He who of the chosen twelve first trode the martyrs' way, Taught by their mother, crav'd the boon next to Thy throne to be, For her dreams were of the Glory, but the Cross she could not see. |