UNREDEEMED.

I SAW the Christ down from His cross, A tragic man lean-limbed and tall, But weighed with suffering and loss. His back was to a broken wall, And out upon the tameless world Was fixed His gaze His piercing eye Beheld the towns to ruin hurled, And saw the storm of death pass by.

Two thousand years it was since first He offered to the race of men His sovran boon, As one accurst They nailed Him to the jibbet then, And while they mocked Him for their mirth He smiled, and from the hill of pain To all the hating tribes of earth Held forth His wondrous gift again.

To-day the thorns were on His brow, His grief was deeper than before. From ravaged field and city now Arose the screams and reek of war. The black smoke parted. Through the rift God's sun fell on the b1oody lands. Christ wept, for still His priceless gift He held within His wounded hands.