Idylls of the Bible/Simon's countrymen
SIMON'S COUNTRYMEN.
They took away his seamless robe, With thorns they crowned his head,As harshly, fiercely cried his foes: "Barabbas in his stead."
The friends he loved unto the end, Who shared his daily bread,Before the storms of wrath and hate Forsook their Lord and fled.
To rescue men from death and sin He knew the awful cost,As wearily he bent beneath The burden of the cross.
When Pilate had decreed his fate, And Jews withheld their aid,Then Simon, the Cyrenean, came: On him the cross was laid.
Not his to smite with cruel scorn, Nor mock the dying one,That helpful man came from the land Kissed by the ardent sun—
The land within whose sheltering arms The infant Jesus layWhen Herod vainly bared his sword And sought the child to slay.
Amid the calendar of saints We Simon's name may trace,On history's page thro' every age He bears an honored place.
He little knew that cross would change Unto a throne of light;The crown of thorns upon Christ's brow Would be forever bright.
Beneath the shadow of that cross Brave men with outstretched handsHave told the wondrous tale of love In distant heathen lands.
And yet within our favored land, Where Christian churches rise,The dark-browed sons of Africa Are hated and despised.
Can they who speak of Christ as King, And glory in his name, Forget that Simon's countrymen Still bear a cross of shame?
Can they forget the cruel scorn Men shower on a raceWho treat the hues their Father gives As emblems of disgrace?
Will they erect to God their fanes And Christ with honor crown,And then with cruel weights of pain The African press down?
Oh, Christians, when we faint and bleed In this our native land,Reach out to us when peeled, opprest, A kindly helping hand,
And bear aloft that sacred cross, Bright from the distant years,And say for Christ's and Simon's sake, We'll wipe away your tears.
For years of sorrow, toil and pain We'll bring you love and light,And in the name of Christ our Lord We'll make your pathway bright.
That seamless robe shall yet enfold The children of the sun,Till rich and poor and bond and free In Christ shall all be one.
And for his sake from pride and scorn Our spirits shall be free,Till through our souls shall sound the words He did it unto me.