SCIOPTICON MANUAL. 



And through her cheek the rallied color ran ; 

 And the still outline of her graceful form 

 Stirred in the linen vesture ; and she clasped 

 The Saviour's hand, and fixing her dark eyes 

 Full on his beaming countenance, AROSE I 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 



. . . How oft, Jerusalem ! would I 

 Have gathered you, as gathereth a hen 

 Her brood beneath her wings, but ye would not ! 



He thought not of the death that he would die 



He thought not of the thorns he knew must pierce 



His forehead of the buffet on the cheek 



The scourge, the mocking homage, the foul scorn ! 



Gethsemane stood out beneath his eye 



Clear in the morning sun, and there he knew 



While they who "could not watch with him one hour " 



Were sleeping, he should sweat great drops of blood, 



Praying the " cup might pass." And Golgotha 



Stood bare and desert by the city wall, 



And in its midst, to his prophetic eye, 



Rose the rough cross, and its keen agonies 



Were numbered all the nails were in his feet 



The insulting sponge was pressing on his lips 



The blood and water gushing from his side 



The dizzy faintness swimming in his brain 



And, while his own disciples fled in fear, 



A world's death-agonies all mixed in his I 



Ay he forgot all this. He only saw 



Jerusalem the chosen the loved the lost ! 



He only felt that for her sake his life 



Was vainly given, and, in his pitying love, 



The sufferings that would clothe the heavens in black 



Were quite forgotten. Was there ever love, 



In earth or heaven, equal unto this ? 



Longer or shorter extracts may be used as occasion 

 requires. The following are titles, of -others, equally 



