For Thee once mock'd & crown'd & yet adhorr'd;
Come to this coronation; lo! the scorn
With which they weave His diadem of thorn!
Eye the vile splendour of that scarlet robe
Vesting the veil'd Creator of the globe!
Hear the rude jest - behold the bended knee,
The mirth infernal - and the homage see:
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That Hand - once reach'd to each one in his need,
Now spurned by all - and scepter'd with a reed;
That Brow of majesty and might divine,
A throne of woe - with love in every line!
Here let me linger through life's pensive day,
Till this poor heart in tears shall melt away;
And death approach with liberation sweet
To let me fall - and worship at His feet!
