Poems and Prose of
Devotion
Blessed Redeemer
Up Calv’ry’s mountain, one dreadful morn,
Walked Christ my Savior, weary and worn;
Facing for sinners death on the cross,
That he might save them from endless loss."Father, forgive
them!" thus did he pray,
E’en while his life-blood flowed fast away;
Praying for sinners while in such woe—
No one but Jesus ever loved so.
O how I love him, Savior and Friend!
How can my praises ever find end!
Through years unnumbered on heaven’s shore,
My tongue shall praise him forevermore.
Blessed Redeemer, precious Redeemer!
Seems now I see him on Calvary’s tree
Wounded and bleeding, for sinners pleading—
Blind and unheeding—dying for me! |
—Mrs. Avis Christiansen
First published in 1920 in the hymnal Songs of Redemption
according to Kenneth W. Osbeck in Amazing Grace [Kregel Publications, Grand Rapids,
Mich. 1990].
"Who Shall
Roll the Stone Away?"
A nameless chill pervaded all the air,
On that gray morn, long centuries ago,
As through the city’s narrow streets there crept
Two women on their way to Calvary.
The fragrant odors of sweet spices told
Of their sad errand to the tomb of Him
They loved. And as they neared the garden where
Their blessed Lord was laid, a sudden fear Took hold upon their
eager, loving hearts—
The sepulchre was hewn from solid rock,
A great stone had been rolled before the door,
And sealed with Pilate’s royal signature—
They felt their weakness, and in anguish cried,
"Oh, who shall roll for us the stone away?"
But faith grew bold, they urged their faltering steps—
When lo! they found an Angel from the Lord
Had rolled away the stone, and sat thereon!
Thus often, when with loving zeal we seek
To serve the Lord, a great fear chills our hearts,
The door of opportunity seems closed,
And in our weakness and distress we cry,
"Oh, who shall roll for us the stone away?"
But when with faith and courage we press on
We find the Angel of the Lord hath gone
Before, and lo! the stone is rolled away! |
—Gertrude W. Siebert
Poems of the Way, page 89
Remember the Empty
Tomb
Christ is risen from the dead. I pray you, do not think of the Lord
Jesus Christ as though he were now dead. It is well to dwell upon Gethsemane, Golgotha,
and Gabbatha; but pray remember the empty tomb, Emmaus, Galilee, and Olivet. It is not
well to think of Jesus as for ever on the cross or in the tomb. "He is not here, but
he is risen." Ye may "come and see the place where the Lord lay," but he
lies there no longer he hath burst the bands of death by which he could not be holden: for
it was not possible that God’s holy One could see corruption. The rising of Jesus
from the dead is that fact of facts which establishes Christianity upon an historical
basis, and at the same time guarantees to all believers their own resurrection from the
dead. He is the firstfruits and we are the harvest.
—Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Sermon Collection, volume 3, page 515
The Canary and the
Sparrows
A story is told of a gentleman who had a beautiful singing canary. .A
friend wanted to see if he could teach his sparrows to sing by .keeping the canary with
them. He borrowed it and placed it in the cage with his sparrows. But instead of teaching
them to sing, the poor bird got so timid among the strange birds that it stopped singing
altogether and did nothing but chirp like the sparrows. The owner took it back, but still
it would not sing. It then occurred to him to put it beside another canary which sang
well. This had the desired effect and, regaining the old note, it sang as beautifully as
ever.
Many Christians go, like the canary, into the strange company and
atmosphere of the world, and consequently they not only do not teach the world to sing
their happy, glorious note of praise, they cannot sing the old songs of praise in a
strange land themselves. Soon they learn the sorrowful note of the world. The best thing
for such is to go back again into the more genial society of happy, rejoicing Christian
saints, among whom they will soon learn to sing the glorious notes of praise again, making
melody in their hearts!
—Reprints, page 878
The
Hidden Cross
The multitude saw but the cross of olive-wood
The Man of Sorrows bore, nor knew how underneath,
Close-pressed upon His heart, a hidden cross He wore,—
A dark and bleeding weight of sin and human woe,
Made heavier with the sentence of God’s broken law,
And crowned with thorns of scornful and malicious hate,—
A cross the world’s Redeemer found on Jordan’s brink,
Nor laid it down until He came to Calvary.
Ofttimes it seemed He almost craved some human aid,
Some sympathizing heart to share that cruel cross.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hadst thou but known
What time that cross bore heaviest on the yearning heart
Of Him, thy King!—And yet, O, slow of faith and hard
Of heart, "Ye would not"—and the King passed on His way;
And of the people, there was none with Him, He trod
Alone the winepress of this dark world’s shame and woe!
O, chosen three, had ye but watched with Him "one hour,"
That awful night in dark Gethsemane, ye might
Have lightened some the cruel weight of that dread cross,
Have known and shared with Him that agonizing woe,—
Alas! Alas! Your eyes were heavy, and ye slept.
So now, "sleep on and take your rest," ye weary ones,
A holy angel’s wing hath eased the hidden cross,—
Your Master, strengthened, waits that other cross to bear!
Which cross bore heavier on the way to Calvary,—
The cross the cruel Roman soldiers laid upon
That blessed One? Ah! no, it was the unseen cross
That crushed Him to the earth, that wrung from those pale lips
The agonizing cry, "My God, My God, oh, why
Hast Thou forsaken Me?" In grief Earth rent her breast,
The sun grew dark. ‘Tis finished, and the price is paid,—
The hidden cross had pierced that loving, tender heart!
"Take up thy cross and follow Me," the Master said.
Ah, yes, His faithful Bride must also bear a cross,—
The hidden cross, made not of life’s vicissitudes
Alone, its ills and pain, its loss and poverty,—
The outward signs the multitude behold;
Ah! no, we follow in His steps, who went before
Us in the narrow way. We, too, must bear the woe,
Be touched with feeling of the world’s infirmity,—
Its weary weight of sin and curse of broken law.
Let us, therefore, go forth to Him, "without the gate,"
Lay down our lives in sacrifice, spend and be spent,
And, while we clasp this cross more closely to our breast,
Press on toward Calvary, for there our Bridegroom waits
To take the cross of woe, and give the Crown of Joy!
—W. H. Pepworth |
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