W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.

Christ to the Daughters of Jerusalem

William A. Newman

WEEP not for Me, oh! weep not, Salem’s Daughters,

Faint though ye see Me, stay the bursting tear;

Turn the sad tide—the tide of bitter waters—

Back on yourselves for Desolation near.

Lift not for Me the heart-wrung lamentation,

Pierced though ye see Me, nailed and crucified;

Hush the wild wail, till floods of devastation

Pour on your heights the waste of ruin wide.

Tear not for Me your locks in keenest anguish,

Though ye behold me bow the Head and die;

Weep for your children soon to pine and languish,

Rolling in death the sunk and famished eye.

Smite not for Me your breasts with frantic beating,

When the mixed Draught is raised in cruel hate;

Weep for your City, whose red cup is heating

To waste in flames its houses desolate.

Gaze not on Me with looks of silent mourning,

While the fierce soldiers part My Vesture round;

Soon shall their hands, thy Holy Temple scorning,

Lay its proud glories level with the ground.

Shed not for Me the burning tear of sadness,

Pressed though I droop mid tumult’s noisy din;

Soon will the spoiler, fired with wrath and madness,

Surround thy walls, and shut thy sons within.

Weep not for Me, with fond remembrance pondering,

Dreams of Redemption for Judah’s severed race;

Weep for her children, scattered, peeled, and wandering,

The Gentile’s taunt—without a resting-place.

Weep not for Me, then weep not, Salem’s Daughters,

Faint though ye see Me, stay the bursting tear;

Turn the sad tide—the tide of bitter waters—

Back on yourselves for Desolation near.