THE LION OF THE TRIBE OF JUDAH by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Mar 5, 1901

THE LION OF THE TRIBE OF JUDAH

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE

'Tis night; I look once more, and see A garden called Gethsemane; The chilling dews are falling round On gnarled oak and sacred ground, While in the dark recesses deep Three men are lying fast asleep. Hark! hear'st thou not that voice of prayer Borne on the sympathizing air? That voice hath reached th' eternal throne, The Christ of Calvary weeps alone.

Look ye! that brow that erst did wear The light of heaven's resplendent crown Is ghastly, pale, and seamed with care, While drops of blood are trickling down. While to His pallid lips compressed, The fearful, bitter cup is pressed.

O Earth! and will He drink the cup To save thy sorrowing sons from hell? Almost I see thy funeral car, Almost I hear thy funeral knell. O Earth, within the balance laid! Shall blessed Mercy turn the scale? Say, shall the fearful debt be paid? Or Justice infinite prevail?

Once more that voice, like music rare, Is borne upon the ambient air: “O Father! must I drink the cup? Thy will be done; I drink it up. I bear for man this load of guilt,— Not as I will, but as thou wilt.” And still the powers of hell have failed, And Judah's Lion hath prevailed.

Again I look. O shameful sight! Before proud Pilate's pompous throne, Clad in the mocking robes of might, The Root of David stands alone, While priests and elders swell the cry: “Away with Jesus! Crucify!”

Behold Him bear the rugged cross Until He sinks beneath the load, While onward over Calvary's hill His bloody footprints mark the road. And ’neath Golgotha's dark’ning skies The Majesty of heaven dies. O suffering Christ! and wilt thou give Thy life that guilty man might live,— Thou through whose word the worlds were framed, And all the starry hosts were named? Thou, before whom bright seraphs fall In love and adoration deep, Didst leave thy many mansions fair To seek and save the one lost sheep? O infinite, O gracious love, As high and vast as heaven above! Thou canst not know, O heart of mine, Nor reckon up such love divine. What wonder that the heavens bent? What wonder that the rocks were rent, That Nature gasped and held her breath, While Christ of Calvary bowed in death?

But ah! death can not hold Him bound A captive low in Joseph's tomb: A mighty trembling shakes the ground, A dazzling light dispels the gloom; O Earth! thy mighty foe hath failed, And Judah's Lion hath prevailed.