Oh! could I but the purposed doom avert, And shield the blameless head from cruel hurt!
Accessible is Pilate's heart to fear, Omens will shake his soul, like autumn leaf;Could he this night's appalling vision hear, This just man's bonds were loosed, his life were safe, Unless that bitter priesthood should prevail, And make even terror to their malice quail.
Yet if I tell the dream--but let me pause.
What dream? Erewhile the characters were clear, Graved on my brain--at once some unknown cause Has dimm'd and razed the thoughts, which now appear, Like a vague remnant of some by-past scene;--
Not what will be, but what, long since, has been.
I suffer'd many things--I heard foretold A dreadful doom for Pilate,--lingering woes, In far, barbarian climes, where mountains cold Built up a solitude of trackless snows, There he and grisly wolves prowl'd side by side, There he lived famish'd--there, methought, he died;But not of hunger, nor by malady;I saw the snow around him, stain'd with gore;I said I had no tears for such as he, And, lo! my cheek is wet--mine eyes run o'er;I weep for mortal suffering, mortal guilt, I weep the impious deed, the blood self-spilt.
More I recall not, yet the vision spread Into a world remote, an age to come--
And still the illumined name of Jesus shed A light, a clearness, through the unfolding gloom--
And still I saw that sign, which now I see, That cross on yonder brow of Calvary.
What is this Hebrew Christ?-to me unknown His lineage--doctrine--mission; yet how clear Is God-like goodness in his actions shown, How straight and stainless is his life's career!
The ray of Deity that rests on him, In my eyes makes Olympian glory dim.
The world advances; Greek or Roman rite Suffices not the inquiring mind to stay;The searching soul demands a purer light To guide it on its upward, onward way;Ashamed of sculptured gods, Religion turns To where the unseen Jehovah's altar burns.