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Read book online Β«Cross Roads by Margaret E. Sangster (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) πŸ“•Β».   Author   -   Margaret E. Sangster



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/> And something, thrilling, whispered of love forever-
more -
And then he rose, half weeping - and it was Christmas Day!
A thief he was by calling, who felt the Father's plan,
But back across the desert there silent rode a man!


III.

The years are met as milestones upon a winding road,
And some slip by like shadows, and some are fair
with flowers;
And some seem dreary, hopeless - a leaden chain of
hours -
And some are like a heart-throb, and some a heavy
load,
The thief, a thief no longer, a lonely figure strode
Heart-weary down life's pathway, through tempest
and through showers,
But always prayed that somewhere among sweet-
scented bowers,
A Baby's smile might show him where happiness
abode.

For he was often hungry - a thief, reformed, must
eat -
And there were folk who shunned him, and turned
his plea away;
And there were those who scourged him from out
the market place -
(They were the ones who told him to earn his bread
and meat!)
Yet ever he walked onward, and dreamed of some
fair day
When he would find the Christ-Child with love upon
His face!


IV.

Where work lay for the asking it seemed that men
MIGHT work,
But prejudice was rampant in every shop and field;
And, "What if you ARE trying, MY scythe you may
not wield!"
Men told the thief, who answered - "Indeed, I will
not shirk!"
And carpenters and builders turned from him with
a smirk,
And farmers hurried by him to house the harvest's
yield.
And so he took his dagger, all rusted, and his shield,
And sought again the highway where thieves and
jackals lurk.

And yet the spark of manhood still flamed within his
heart,
And still he saw the Baby, beyond the stable door;
And oftentimes at even, as crimson daytime died,
He knelt, a sorry figure, from all of life apart.
And, "Oh, if I could see Him - and feel His love
once more,
"If I could see Him smiling, I would not steal!" he
cried.


V.

It was a glowing ruby that caused the thief to fall,
But - he was very hungry, and lonely, too, and cold;
And youth lay all behind him, a tattered funeral
pall,
For he was very tired, and he was growing old.
It was a glowing ruby that lay upon the breast
Of one who had not earned it, who wore it with a
sneer;
The thief was very weary, he only longed for rest;
He was too wan for caring, he was too numb for fear!

It was a glowing ruby - he held it in his hand -
His hand was thin and withered, it shook beneath
the gem;
He took the vivid ruby, the ransom of a land,
And tied it firmly, tightly, within his garment's hem;
And then he shuffled forward, but like a thorn
within
His soul he bore the torment of bitterness and sin!


VI.

They caught him when the morning had tinged the
Eastern skies;
The gem was found upon him, as red as guilty blood;
He stood, his head sunk forward, with listless, shal-
low eyes,
And hopelessness submerged him like some unholy
flood;
A Thief he was by calling. The law? The law
was great;
What chance had he for pity? His fate was sealed
and done;
He was unclean, an outcast, a menace to the state;
A thing to be avoided, a stain against the sun!

They led him to his hearing, the hall was still and
light;
A judge was seated higher, who passed him with a
glance;
And suddenly, forgetting his weariness and fright,
The thief cried, leaping forward, "I did not have a
chance!"
The judgment hall was spacious, and coldly white
and wide -
And coldly came the sentence - "He shall be crucified!"


VII.

They nailed him, God's creation, upon a cross of
shame;
They nailed him up with laughter, they heeded not
his tears;
And people looking at him were moved to soulless
jeers,
And agony was on him - a searing, breathless flame!
And then, as he hung sobbing, a sudden feeling came
Of peace that, reaching toward him across the sound
of sneers,
Was like a burst of music that one more feels than
hears -
For, from somewhere beside him, a Voice had
breathed his name.

Ah, he was weak with anguish, and yet he turned his
head,
And saw a cross beside him, and on the cross a Form;
And he forgot the tumult, the horror and the storm -
And someone, down below him, said, "Look, the thief
is dead!"
But, safe from fear and torture beyond their scornful cries,
The thief had gazed at Heaven in Christ's triumphant
eyes!


SUMMER SONG

If I might go with my True Love,
To some far, dream-swept land,
I'd be content to sit all day
Upon the silver sand,
And watch the sea come creeping in,
The sighing, singing sea -
If I might go to some far land,
And take True Love with me!

If I could go with my True Love,
To some far, lonely place;
The world might well be lost, and I
Could look upon Love's face.
And wealth would seem a little thing,
While happiness might be -
If I could go to some far land,
And take True Love with me.

Ah, Love would smile, and ruffle up,
The hair above my brow;
And we would laugh at all that seems
So very sober, now.
And monkey-folk, and scarlet birds,
Would peer from every tree,
And try to understand the words
My True Love said to me!

If I might go with my True Love,
To some far, dream-swept land;
I would not miss the world, for I
Could always touch Love's hand,
And feel the magic of his lips -
Oh, by the singing sea,
And Eden-place would bloom a-new
For my True Love and me!


COMPREHENSION - A MOTHER'S SONG

I KNOW HOW MARY FELT, THERE IN THE HAY,
MY LITTLE SON WAS BORN ON CHRISTMAS DAY!

I know, as she bent tenderly above Him,
She did not think of majesty or power,
For he was hers - and she was there to love Him!
His hands, as pinkly tinted as a flower,
Seemed all too small to carve His deathless story -
What though a star gleamed glorious to guide
Him?
She snatched Him to her breast as if to hide Him
From harm, and fear, and even - yes, from glory.

And when the wise men came to give their treasure,
She smiled at them as proud as any queen;
She scarcely saw the jewels in countless measure,
The gold that gleamed; her gaze was far, serene,
Upon the hills where shepherds watched, alone.
She did not think of crosses or of dying,
For He was just a drowsy baby, lying
Wrapped in her love - A baby - all her own!

I KNOW HOW MARY FELT, THERE IN THE HAY,
MY LITTLE SON WAS BORN ON CHRISTMAS DAY!


SINGING ON THE MARCH

God put a song into my heart one day,
A little song as light as ocean form,
A little song of love and hope and home,
A little song to cheer me on my way.

And though I bowed beneath the load I bore,
I found that, when I sang, the way was bright,
And that my footsteps swifter grew, and light;
And all my life seemed fairer than before.

God has a song that fits in every heart,
And though that song may seem a tiny thing,
It is your task - so forge ahead, and SING -
And you will find that you have done your part!


EASTER

He came to call last night -
And we began to talk, as young folk will,
Half carelessly, and half in awe, of God.
It was the springtime, and the night was still
And fragrant, all about us.
And the sod
Was fresh with tender grass,
And overhead a crescent moon shone bright.
And, "God," he said, "Has built the world on laws,
"Like some great watch, and every breathing space
"Is measured; and the system has no flaws,
"And nothing moves from its appointed place.
"God is the Master Scientist," he said,
His voice was bold and had a ring of truth -
But God seemed ponderous, and far away. . . .

And then a gentle breeze danced overhead,
And caused the timid, new-born leaves to sway,
And we began to talk of love, and youth.

And then, I sent him home, and went upstairs,
To my still room, and flung the windows wide;
And as I knelt to say my evening prayers
I saw the stars, far smiling, in the sky.
And, all at once, I knew the reason why
I worshipped God . . . knew why He had sent
His son to save the world from sin and shame;
And, suddenly, like some sweet, healing tide,
The meaning of my life swept over me;
And, through the dark, my groping soul could see
The Christ Who loved us, and was crucified.

And, as I knelt and watched the star's faint shine,
I felt God's hand, a moment, touching mine!


RESURRECTION

You took the lilt from my heart of hearts,
And the breath of song from my soul;
And the mind of me that had once been free
And buoyantly young, and whole;
Grew calm and still as a barren sea,
Where never a star beam
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