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Poems (Hazlett-Bevis)/Christ Entering Jerusalem

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4511037Poems — Christ Entering JerusalemSophia Courtoulde Hazlett-Bevis
Christ Entering Jerusalem.
Over the Mount of Olives the Master Took his way, from Bethany old To Jerusalem, caring not that disaster Might block his path, as onward bold He pressed, with gracious mien, the while,Treading the garden of Bethpage, Whose fruit and sunlight both did smile Upon this mighty sage. With wondering eye and steadfast awe The gathering rabble came behind Him; they knew not creed nor law, But that he healed the blind And bade the halt go free. Weary and spent, an ass was brought Him from Bethpage, so did he Hide; and then from out The multitude, in trenchant tones there broke Triumphal acclamations: yet Through it all, he never spoke In praise nor anger. Palms met Above his head, e'en branches cut And waved by hands that knew him not,Commemorative and regnant all, but He, the only son of God begot, Meekly led the way to Jerusalem. The preparation of that great feast, The Passover, was begun; and to stem The crowded throng, from West to East Beyond its wall, was almost vain. With heterogeneous life the city Trembled. Outlying khans and caves again Were peopled with a class to pity. Three million souls, all in that time Were there, in suburb and Jerusalem; A rangling horde of reek and slime—For know ye well that now and then Were two extremes. No assuaging Moral, and physical agencies with which To heal and lessen human suffering; And even a doctor's lance and stitch Were all, alas, unknown to men. Slaves the one half, and the other Monsters. Rome had so far driven Her cohorts over hearts of mother, Brother, friend and foe, hearthstones And shrines, all, all were as nought—The dead and their reeking bones, The height of that Rome sought. What wonder then, the lame and blind,The leper and the madman came To feel a touch so sweetly kind As Christ's—the blessed name? They threw themselves before him, Kissed his garment's trailing hem, And with glazed eyes, and dim, Plead for succor—Alleluia, Amen! Calmly he decends from off the ass, And with uplifted hands, He bade the tumult cease, Kindly, for only pity for the band Fills Jesus' heart; he lays a gentle touch Upon the dead babe of a mother wild With frantic grief, for even such As these, he said in accents mild, "Let the little ones come unto me." Arab, Bedouin, Nubian-all these were there-Every phrase of human life and misery; Even the beautiful and fair Greek maiden, who doth hope to learn More of Jesus' wide-spread fame, And in her youthful heart, a yearn His love and grace to claim. Through the groups, so base and motley, Semitic, Hellenic and even Coptic faces, Bethlehem shepherds and the noted pharisee, Men of every class—all races, Bow in homage, now his skill To seek; yet doubt and disdain, Stand also there, and if so, still Why come they, if in vain? A Judean sunset covers all And bathes the features of Messiah With a glory—not a pall. St. John, who is ever nigh, a Man who speaks unto the throng, Of peace and joy through Him Who doeth all things well; a song His voice, it is so kindly. Twilight dim Falls upon them ere they part; Palm branches strew the ground before Our Lord, and every grateful heart Yields to his power for evermore.