They nailed him, God's creation, upon a cross of
shame;
They nailed him up with laughter, they heeded not
his tears;
And people looking at him were moved to soulless
jeers,
And agony was on him--a searing, breathless flame!
And then, as he hung sobbing, a sudden feeling came
Of peace that, reaching toward him across the sound
of sneers,
Was like a burst of music that one more feels than
hears--
For, from somewhere beside him, a Voice had
breathed his name.
Ah, he was weak with anguish, and yet he turned his
head,
And saw a cross beside him, and on the cross a Form;
And he forgot the tumult, the horror and the storm--
And someone, down below him, said, "Look, the thief
is dead!"
But, safe from fear and torture beyond their scornful cries,
The thief had gazed at Heaven in Christ's triumphant
eyes!