The Shadow Of The Cross
At
the
drowsy
dusk
when
the
shadows
creep
From
the
golden
west,
where
the
sunbeams
sleep,
An
angel
mused:
"Is
there
good
or
ill
In
the
mad
world's
heart,
since
on
Calvary's
hill
'Round
the
cross
a
mid-day
twilight
fell
That
darkened
earth
and
o'ershadowed
hell?"
Through
the
streets
of
a
city
the
angel
sped;
Like
an
open
scroll
men's
hearts
he
read.
In
a
monarch's
ear
his
courtiers
lied
And
humble
faces
hid
hearts
of
pride.
Men's
hate
waxed
hot,
and
their
hearts
grew
cold,
As
they
haggled
and
fought
for
the
lust
of
gold.
Despairing,
he
cried,
"After
all
these
years
Is
there
naught
but
hatred
and
strife
and
tears?"
He
found
two
waifs
in
an
attic
bare;
—
A
single
crust
was
their
meagre
fare
—
One
strove
to
quiet
the
other's
cries,
And
the
love-light
dawned
in
her
famished
eyes
As
she
kissed
the
child
with
a
motherly
air:
"I
don't
need
mine,
you
can
have
my
share."
Then
the
angel
knew
that
the
earthly
cross
And
the
sorrow
and
shame
were
not
wholly
loss.
At
dawn,
when
hushed
was
earth's
busy
hum
And
men
looked
not
for
their
Christ
to
come,
From
the
attic
poor
to
the
palace
grand,
The
King
and
the
beggar
went
hand
in
hand.
