LORD ISA.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 372, 29 May 1889, Page 3

LORD ISA.

" Low lies the Syrian town behind the mountain. Where Mary, meek and spotless, knelt that morn. And saw the aplcndid angel by the fountain, And heard his voice, ' Lord Isa shall be born.'" Sir Edwin Arnold, M a., C.S.L. No palace domes were there, nor Eastern temple To shade the glory of Lord Isas birth ; But a poor stable of a village lowly Received the Babe, whose nam« now rules the earth. So the sweet Babe upon a manger lying Had no attendants, save one angel there, Whose mother-heart in numbers rich was sighing Love's holiest psalm and most accepted prayer. She being mother, pray'd forhelpand guidance, And strength that cometh trom God's store above ; Nay, not the fury of tho desert lion, But the fierce daring of the mother-dove. So would she pray, God's fair and bright evangels Might toy with Him, in sunbeams passing fair ; And gild the rainbow of a Father's promise. To guard and succour those who need His care. O ! did that Babe, when slumber's spells were o'er Him, Dream of His sorrows, and His martyr-fate ? Or dreamt He how great kings would bow before him, A throneleas King — yet worlds his vast estate ? 'Beheld ho then tho wranglers in the Temple, Or felt the kiss of Judas on his brow 1 Or heard he weak yet loving lips dissemble, As some half worship yet betray him now 1 Or heard He groans and shrieks of wte upspringing From rended hearts, and praise of martyrs then? Or joybells for His birth through ages ringing, Or tho simple worship of the shepherd men ? Or saw the nations arm'd against each other. And in His name despoil and wrong and slay ; And silken banners with His cross emblazon'd, That Christian ringers wove with rich display? Or heard He then the low sad wail oC hunger From rt eking garrets of the Christian poor, Or tho loud anthems ot the blest and wealthy. Who see no sorrows from their palace door? Nay, but He slumbered well ; His mother's bosom Pres-ed close to his shut out all future dread ; Else would kind Nature in revolt have shuddered, And claimed Lord Isa as the early dead ! For blest Israfil in his shining garments, Whose brow is beautiful a& Eastern skies, Would, as God's messenger, have touched the sleoper, And kissed Lord Isas bright and holy eyes, And kissing, close them 'gainst all future shadow, To ope once more by Allah's splendid throne, Where, for ever with the blest immortals, He would sit down with Him who reigns alone. Then never spear had piere'd, nor thorns had crown'd Him, Nor cruel nails had torn His hands and feet ; But fair angels minister'd round Him — The rosy Babe, whose slumbers were so sweet! But He must wake to stern life's stream of sorrow. To labour where the tides of progress flow ; For, as God's teacher, ho must see that morrow That se s in gladness though it dawns in woe. To win by love tho spirit bent in sadness, • To plant fair flovvei's on a-desert sod, And lead the weary to a realm of gladness And life eternal by the throne of God. —From "Tales of Araby," by W. R. Wills.