The Treachery of Judas.
By Mrs. L. D. A. Stuttle
O’er old Jerusalem the shades of night
Were slowly creeping, and the moon rolled high
In cloudless splendor ’mong the twinkling stars
Which hung like lamps within the arching sky,
As the disciples met with one accord,
For the last time with their beloved Lord. The Master’s gentle face was pale and sad,
And on his heart strange grief appeared to bear
With crushing weight, for in their very midst,
His piercing eye discerns the traitor there;
Ah! Judas, that thou should’st presume to try
To hide thy guilt from that all-seeing Eye! Say, didst thou dream that he who healed the sick,
And caused the shrieking demons to depart,
That raised the dead to life and strength again,
Could fail to read the secrets of thy heart?
Ah! treacherous Judas, didst thou thus believe
That thy false friendship could thy Lord deceive? Ah, base ingratitude! how could’st thou thus
Require the love he freely gave away!
Did not thy spirit fail thee at the words,
“One of my chosen twelve shall me betray?”
Didst thou not tremble at the earnest cry
Of thy companions, “Master, is it I?” Oh, cruel treachery! mean, base, and vile,
How many souls have felt thy stinging smart,
Why didst thou ever, with thy craven form
Take up thy lodgment in the human heart?
Go seek thy home among the fiends of hell!
And in the raging hearts of devils, dwell!