The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 12, 1903, Page 13

THE SUNDAY CALL. 13 ; DE;"- q C‘ Jien @E@ n‘ardzn of Mfiplfltfim Eidin Mm‘lshnm ey =03 e was a garden and in the garden | | ove’s divine adventure—His white face they Jesus, therefore, and S G Bhe o nf s R A Hushed with heroic purpose for the race; Yet wistful of the men who should deny Him, And wistful of the years that should belie Him. 3 (T was a night of calls and far replies, )j A night of trembling for that Serpent head Wi o . In gulfs that were before the eldest dead—‘ With peace of heart the blind world could not break, /‘/)9 \| A night of whispering haste along the skies, He took a path the young leaves keep awake. -7 W\ Prayer, and a wondering down of seraph eyes; Gjad of the day come back and loving all, lV \ ‘.\ Whll¢ stilled Jerusalem,washz=d in ihe moon’s light, He passed across the morning, felt the cool, oy AN Lay like a brood of sepulchres, ghost-white. Sweet, kindling air blown upward from the pool. :»Jfl 4| The dark was dying silverly, that strange, - A burning bush was reddening by the wall; )\ Y 1 Still hour when Earth is falling tcward the day— An ol=ander bough was full ot stirs, \ | . That hour of spacious silence and delay Struck by the robes of unseen messengers. \\\ ll i)/ When all things poise upon the hinge of charge. The hills broke purpling, as the sun's bright edge /T [/, The guardsmen had grown silent cn their rcund, | ’ /| Their file was sinking, when a crash of sound— ? Darkness—a reel of Earth—a rush of light— Pushed slowly up behind a rocky ledge; The hovering dome of the Temple, gray and cold, Cleft rocks—then scant of aldis Gk:the Tl ¢ Burned cut with sudden unexpected gold; /i ,l A light wind silvered up the olive slope, ’3/// ‘ ‘[ Their faces turned to faces of the dead, And all the world was wonder and wild hope. ~f N Their spears fell clamoring terribly as they tled. !t was life’s crowned, supreme, victorious hour; N7 v, ‘ ’ And He stood risen in the guarded place, Ihe wintry world was trembling into flower. \ \ A With empire in His fEafre—oh His face And now th= King! and rumors ran of Him it / ‘ The hush of muted music and the might Upon the quick lips of the Cherubim l \ }\ \ That drew the stars down on the ancient night. Leaning from Heaven and counting all the tears, “ (S , ' >\ Tall in the first-light, mystical and pale, Yet hearing thro’ the grief of ages dim / ’1‘\‘ & ) \ He stood as one who dares and cannot fail, The mighty song that binds our mortal years. () A/ }y | As some high conscript of the Bright Abodes, EDWIN MARKHAM, ['& ‘ e 3 é As one St]” Ca”ed to travel on W]Id rOadS Author of “The Man With the Hoe,” and Other Poems. 5"\:,\;’} l 7/