Classic Poem

Along the blood-stained road that Christ's foot trod
We follow hard, —
Watching the sweet eyes of the Son of God
And his brow scarred.

Along the weary lonely devious way
We follow him,
Through midnight blackness till the morning grey, —
Till stars wax dim.

Not on his head love's star-crown shone alone;
Nay! all may share
His glory who will share his sorrow's throne
On Calvary bare.

If any man will watch throughout the night,
Though wild winds roam
And on the savage beach the only light
Is light of foam.

He shall partake the deathless crown that he,
The Christ-king wore:
An honoured guest at his high table be
For evermore.

But first must all his hair be wet with dew,
And he must stand
Lonely beneath the roof of midnight blue
In his own land.

And each upon his special cross must hang,
True till the end;
Each pierced by his own individual pang, —
Without one friend.

Then shall the morning that beheld Christ free
See us too rise, —
Pure as the white air, strenuous as the sea,
With deathless eyes.