THE POWER OF THE CROSS.
By Rosalind A. Young
“O love divine, that stooped to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear!” THESE two opening lines of that beautiful hymn of Oliver Wendell Holmes’ impressed themselves on my heart this morning, as I listened to the following little story told me by a friend, who had it from the lips of a lady recently returned from a visit to Palestine, and who was one of the party. The lady told how their party visited the different places of interest, places familiar through the dear old Bible stories. “It was at Calvary,” she said, “that the hearts of all were touched. While there, gaily chatting and laughing together, a party of Russian pilgrims came on the scene. They had come long miles on foot, and were toil-worn, dusty, and travel-stained. They were only ignorant men and women, whose sandaled feet had become tired through their long journey, but they had reached their goal at last. They had reached Calvary! To them the place was sacred as the scene of the Saviour’s crucifixion and death. “Throwing themselves upon the ground, they cried and wept, at the same time throwing dust upon their bodies. The crucifixion scene was vividly present to their minds, and their grief was very real as the onlooker beheld them. “The gay laugh and light conversation were suddenly checked. The power of the cross that moved the pilgrims to lamentation and grief, touched the hearts of the party that had come merely to visit, and,” said the lady, “we, too, mingled our tears with those of the poor Russian pilgrims, and left the place subdued and quiet, and I do not think any of us will ever forget that sight.” Thank God, we can approach in faith to Calvary, and learn of the divine love manifested there, and feel that love moving our hearts as we realize that “The Father’s well-beloved Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree!
The Son of God for me has died,—
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.
“Then let us sit beneath His cross
And gladly catch the healing stream;
All things for Him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to Him!
Of nothing think or speak beside,—
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.” ROSALIND A. YOUNG.
Papeete, Tahiti, May 7, 1906.