Sonnet

"The stone the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner." Mat. 21:42

As if the words were magic, I see rise

   A form majestic, with benignant face,

   Sad with a world’s woe, sweet with infinite grace,

And such a light in His immortal eyes,

As if the azure of unclouded skies

   Shed boundless sorrow o’er an erring race,

  And boundless love to hear them to their place

In the red sweat of bleeding agonies!

Show me the new Christ, with his face benign,

   Your land’s redeemer; draw the veil aside!

What! Am I mocked? Is this a thing divine?

   Ah, mob insensate! ye have crucified

A people’s honor, in your shame and grief,

And set Barabbas free, and crowned the impenitent thief!