Upon these words, he unfolded the cloth,
And Abgar, seeing Christ’s sweet countenance
Fell to his knees, and an unbounded joy
And holy ardor stirred him fervently,
And joyously, ’mid tears, he sighed and said;
“My soul is healed at last and grieves no more.”
Then he began to kiss Christ’s saintly cheek.
With pleading hands/ he begged the artist speak
And tell him more of Christ. The artist spoke
And told about Christ’s mission on this earth;
Spoke of his holy life and miracles;
About Christ’s more than human kindliness;
About God’s kingdom and the destruction that
Perils the sons of man in Judea.
The night passed thus and with fatigue
King Abgar fell into a troubled sleep.
And when he woke, he said: “Send messengers
To far Canaan and let them take to Christ
The message that I will entrust to them.”
He took a parchment and wrote in words of gold:
“O Saviour? O son of God on earth!
I have heard about you and your many deeds.
And learned that, in their blindness, Christ, your kin
Plot ill against you. Listen to my plea!
I have a wondrous city, dreaming in a grove;
A golden palace; all is open wide
My city and my home of famed kings.
Come to me, Christ! My soul is weak with grief.”
The messengers sped swiftly to Canaan,
But came too late for on a wooden cross,
Christ gave his soul into the hands of God.
Then sadly they returned, with heavy feet,
As men who know that grief shall follow them
Into the home of one whom they hold dear.
While the heralds plodded on their weary way,
King Abgar lingered between life and death
Upon the bed within his darkened room.
“!f they would only come,” he prayed incessantly,
With his mother who, with grief, bent over him
As a willow-tree bends over a lonely grave.
With the night at length the messengers returned
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