THE WAY OF THE CROSS by Clara Edna Rosencrans

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Jul 7, 1914

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 41, No. 26.

THE WAY OF THE CROSS

By Clara Edna Rosencrans

By CLARA EDNA ROSENCRANS

In the holy city Zion, Nigh to Kidron's murmuring wave, Till the resurrection morning, Jesus slumbered in the grave. In the carven tomb of Joseph, Low He lay, in slumber sweet, After all His cruel anguish, In the hallowed, blest retreat. Round Him stood the forest monarchs, Guarding well His sacred rest. Women knelt about His pillow, Whom His gentle hands had blessed. Children on whose golden ringlets Rested His dear hands in love, Came to weep and mourn the "Prophet," In that quiet, shadowed grove. They recalled how He had saved them From their sin and sorrow deep, And with reverent hands they laid Him To His long and quiet sleep. Bitter sorrow filled each bosom, Wounded love, and hope's defeat. Self-deceived He must be, surely, Else the downfall were complete. Proud the Pharisees were scoffing "This deceiver." Ah, the shame!

In the filth of their reviling Lay that loved and honored name. But the resurrection dawning Flushes all the eastern sky. Little dreamed those sad disciples Of the joy that was so nigh. See! He rises, clothed in beauty, And the shining of His face Backward drives the armed legions, Each one falls down in his place. And the angels sing hosannas, While His earthly friends rejoice, And sad hearts again are happy At that well-remembered voice. On the sacred Mount of Olives, Jesus stands, a conqueror. Roman cross and scourge and thorn-crown All have given victory. Not for earthly thrones or crowning Came He from the Father's love; Something higher, far more holy, Something earthly things above. And for those who follow after, Open is the path He trod. Through the cross to glorious victory Lies the path that leads to God.