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 REDEMPTION. 287

Nail'd Him, who labors, to the accursed tree, Should with unhallow'd finger trace the path, That scorners sole may scout the sacred spot, When rather penitential woe with tears, The crucial way should mark, which Jesus trod. Now o'er the wastes of Kadesh had the sun, With pensile beams, reluctant, dimly shown, Averse to smile, or run his wonted round Whilst his Creator groan' d beneath the cross. The mists of Hebron veil'd his dismal face, And on the hills of Solyma some drops Let fall, .sad witnesses of Nature's grief, That sympathetic join'd her wail of woe, As scourged and buffeted, the Son of God, His footsteps turn'd tow'rds Calvary's clouded height. The flow'rs and palm leaves, which profuse had graced The Victor's triumph, still bestrow the way, Which he so late in kingly state had pass'd, But of the multitudes, whose loud acclaim Had with hosannas hail'd Him bless'd who comes, Not one is found to greet their suff'ring Lord, Or save him from the malefactor's doom ; And there the Victim stands, naked and lone, Bound to the pillar, jeer'd, derided, scoff'd; Whilst those, who late so loud his praises sang, Now join the miscreant throng with mocking tongues; Who sang hosannas crucify him cry, Who wove him garlands, now with whips annoy. Sharp shriek the dripping thongs, as through the air, Like patt'ring hail their knotted missiles fall, Till gash'd, and bleeding, bruised, and sadly torn, A gory halo cloaks the Saviour's form.

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