Poems (Kimball)/The Boy who carried the Cross

by Harriet McEwen Kimball

THE BOY WHO CARRIED THE CROSS.

(W. A. D. W. entered into rest July 13, 1883, aged 14 years.)

HENCEFORTH I shall always see him
 As he looked when he led the way
For the children marching churchward
 Upon some festal day;

As I saw him that first fair Easter
 In the light of the "day of days,"
When they entered God's gates with thanksgiving,
 And into His courts with praise.

He was born to be a leader,
 I thought, as he led that throng,
Unconscious of self and comely,
 Modest and noble and strong.

Princely in stature and bearing
 And steadfast of hand and eye,
He carried the Church's standard,
 The Cross of Jesus, on high.

On his fair, unsullied forehead
 Once signed with that sign of grace,
could almost see its glory
 Lighting his lovely face.

First and foremost by virtue
 Of all that youth could claim,
He was first and foremost also
 In a life that knew no blame.

So brilliant his future's promise
 Fame must be his portion, we said;
But the crown of Christian triumph
 Already ennobled his head.

Unselfish, beloved and ardent
 Whether in labor or play,
He carried his dear Lord's honor
 Wherever he wended his way.

And if he had lived to gather
 The laurels of all the earth,
And all the winds of heaven
 Had wafted to men his worth;

If he had lived, and dying
 Been mourned as a nation's loss,
I still should have seen but this vision
 Of the boy who carried the Cross.