Christ Made Like His Brethren.
CHRIST had his sorrows: when he shed
His tears, O Palestine, for thee!
When all but weeping females fled,
In his dark hour of agony!
Christ had his sorrows; so must thou,
If thou wilt tread the path he trod;
O, then, like him, submissive bow,
And love the sovereignty of God. Christ had his joys; but they were not
The joys the son of pleasure boasts;
O, no! 't was when his spirit sought
Thy will, thy glory, God of hosts!
Christ had his joys; and so hath he
Who feels his Spirit in his heart—
Who yields, O God, his all to thee,
And loves thy name for what thou art. Christ had his foes; the prince of hell
And all his angels sought his death!
See! human hearts with malice swell,
And murder feign affection's breath!
Christ had his foes; and so, if thou
Shalt with him walk and near him live,
The cruel world will hate thee now,
And thou shalt suffer—and forgive! Christ had his friends; his eye could trace,
Through the long train of coming years,
The chosen children of his grace,
The full reward of all his tears!
Christ had his friends! and his are thine,
If thou to him hast bowed the knee;
And where those ransomed millions shine
Shall thy eternal mansion be.