His Own Received Him Not

Surely

if such a thing could be

The best of sun­light fell on Thee;

The soft­est of the stars of night

Shed down on Thee its sweet­est light.

Surely

if such a thing could be

Noon kept its gentl­est rays for Thee;

The light­est of the winds of morn

Across Thy wea­ry brow was borne.

The fresh­est dew that eve ere shed

Fell in its cool­ness on Thy head;

The fair­est of the flow­ers that bloom

Reserved for Thee their rich per­fume.

Yet tho’ this earth which Thou hast made

Its best for Thee might hour­ly spread

And tho’

if such a thing might be

The best of sun­light fell on Thee

Man had no love to give Thee here

No words of peace

no look of cheer;

No ten­der­ness his heart could move

He gave Thee hat­red for Thy love.

Thy best of love to him was giv’n

The freest

tru­est grace of Heav’n;

His worst of hat­red fell on Thee

His worst of scorn and en­mi­ty.

Life

as its gift for him

Thy love

Brought in its full­ness from ab­ove;

Death

of all deaths the sharp­est

he

In his deep hate pre­pared for Thee.

O love and hate! thus face to face

Ye meet in this strange meet­ing place!

O sin and grace

O death and life

Who

who shall con­quer in this strife?

Fa­ther

for­give

is love’s lone cry

While hat­red’s crowd shouts

Cru­ci­fy!

How deep­ly man his God doth hate

God’s love to man how true and great!

Love bows the head in dy­ing woe

And hat­red seems to tri­umph now;

Life in­to death is fad­ing fast

And death seems con­quer­or at last.

But night is her­ald of the day

And hate’s dark tri­umph but makes way

For love’s eter­nal vic­to­ry

When life shall live

and death shall die.