Page:Poems Shipton.djvu/117

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Sing then loudly, ransomed spirit,
 Let the captives hear thee sing;
Thou the Promise shalt inherit,
 Wandering child of Israel's King.
   Think of Him: then, bending down,
   Take thy cross, and wear thy crown.

Thou art lonely—He was lonely;
 Dost thou at thy lot repine?
Thou thy burden bearest only;
 But He bore His grief—and thine.
   Yea, for thee that crown was worn,
   'Twas thy sin that wove the thorn.

Priestly pomp, and princely splendor,
 Greet not Him who came to save.
Doth the earth her tribute render?
 All she gives Him is a grave:
   Gold nor gem His brow adorns,
   Nothing but a Crown of Thorns.

Hands outstretched, the sinner seeking,
 Eyes that wept o'er human woe,
Lips but love and pity speaking,
 Mark the path He trod below.
   While His love the alien scorns,
   Child, bless thou the Crown of Thorns!