W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.
The Centurions FaithAlan Brodrick
A war-horse flinging foam-flakes on the air—
A soldier on his knees in deadly pain,
From sunburnt lips a wildly ringing prayer!
With none to spring between him and his death,
I cannot stand by powerless to save;
I cannot watch the torture of his breath.
And kisses it, and calls me ‘master, dear,’
Till I, who’ve fought for Rome in ev’ry land,
Am troubled with the weakness of a tear.
When galloping across the morning plain,
Wet with the tear-drops of an angry show’r,
I heard a shriek rise shrill, and die again.
I thunder’d on the echo of that cry,
A crowd of brutal faces laughing stood
Around a slave in his death-agony.
To right and left I swung mine iron mace;
One instant, and his thongs were all untied,
His dark eyes pleading mercy in my face.
A soldier bred in camp and battle-field,
My music the fierce war-cry of Rome’s foes,
My friends an honest heart and trusty shield.
All the sad story of my reckless youth,
O’er which my manhood sickens deadly faint,
Is read by one whom Israel calleth Truth,
Because I read men’s faces, and I see
That thou art tender, true of heart, and brave,
And crown’d with suff’ring’s nameless majesty.
My soul is well nigh broken with its shame,
Yet never on the down-cast have I trod;
Most sinful else, in this I have no blame.
Why I should love the simple slave I saved;
Thou wouldst have loved him for his misery,
A greater danger for him wouldst have braved.
When he is dying with no friend but me,
Babbling in dreams of some far palm-fringed hill,
Some cool lagoon beyond a sultry sea?
I do not fear him, cringer to the strong
And tyrant o’er the weak—none fear his frown
Save he whose life is built upon the wrong.”
You heard the lazy ripple on the beach;
The soldier still was kneeling at His feet,
The burden of his sorrow choking speech.
A murmur stole amid the list’ning crowd;
The soldier sprang up,—“Lord, say in a word—
“I am not worthy,”—then the strong man bow’d.
His spirit stricken by its stormy grief;
The sneering mob swept on, and then alone
The smitten heart with Jesus found relief.
What better need there is that you and I
Should fall in love and sorrow at those feet,
And lift once more our supplicating cry.
Beneath my roof, too foul for thy pure eyes;
Yet there’s a dying servant in my home,
Lord, speak—I am not worthy—or he dies.
W. Garrett Horder, mshirika. Biblia ya The Poets: Agano Jipya. Mwaka 1895 The Centurions FaithAlan Brodrick Farasi wa vita akipiga vipande vya povu hewani... Askari aliyepiga magoti katika maumivu ya kifo, Kutoka midomo iliyochomwa na jua sala ya kupiga kelele! "Kwa kuwa hakuna mtu wa kumzuia asife, siwezi kusimama kimya, siwezi kumsaidia; siwezi kutazama mateso ya pumzi yake.""" Na kunibusu, na kuniita 'bwana, mpenzi,' Mpaka mimi, ambaye nimepigana kwa ajili ya Roma katika nchi ya kila mtu, Nina wasiwasi na udhaifu wa machozi. Wakati galloping katika tambarare asubuhi, Wet na machozi-matone ya show hasira <unk>r, Nilisikia kilio kuongezeka shrill, na kufa tena. Mimi thundered juu ya echo ya kilio hicho, umati wa nyuso brutal laughing alisimama Karibu mtumwa katika kifo chake-kifo. Kwa kulia na kushoto nilitikisa chuma changu; Kwa muda mfupi, na kamba zake zote zilikuwa zimefunguliwa, Macho yake meusi yakiniomba rehema usoni mwangu. """Maskini aliyezaliwa katika kambi na uwanja wa vita, muziki wangu ni kilio cha vita cha adui wa Roma, marafiki wangu ni moyo mnyoofu na ngao ya kuaminika.""" "Hadithi yote ya huzuni ya ujana wangu wa kukosa kufikiri, ambayo ujana wangu unanifanya niwe na ugonjwa wa kufa, inasomwa na yule ambaye Israeli anamwita ""Kweli,"" kwa sababu nasoma nyuso za watu, na naona kwamba wewe ni mnyenyekevu, wa kweli wa moyo, na hodari, na umetawazwa na utukufu usio na jina wa mateso." Nafsi yangu imeharibika kwa aibu yake, lakini sikuwahi kutembea juu ya watu walioshuka; zaidi ya dhambi nyingine, katika hili sina hatia. Kwa nini nipende mtumwa mnyenyekevu niliyemwokoa? wewe ungempenda kwa ajili ya taabu yake, hatari kubwa zaidi kwa ajili yake ungekabiliana nayo. Wakati yeye ni kufa na hakuna rafiki lakini mimi, babbling katika ndoto ya baadhi ya mbali mtende-fringed kilima, baadhi ya baridi ziwa zaidi ya bahari sultry? Mimi si kumwogopa, cringer kwa nguvu na mnyanyasaji o'er dhaifu, hakuna hofu frown yake, ila yeye ambaye maisha yake ni kujengwa juu ya makosa. ulisikia wavivu mwembamba juu ya pwani, askari bado alikuwa kupiga magoti chini ya miguu yake, mzigo wa huzuni yake choking hotuba. Mngurumo uliripotiwa katikati ya umati wa watu; askari huyo akainuka, "Bwana, sema kwa neno moja, "Mimi si mwenye thamani", kisha mwanamume huyo mwenye nguvu akainama. Roho yake ilishikwa na huzuni yake ya dhoruba; umati wa watu wenye kudhihaki uliendelea, na kisha pekee yake Moyo uliopigwa na Yesu ulipata kitulizo. Ni nini haja bora kuna kwamba wewe na mimi lazima kuanguka katika upendo na huzuni katika miguu hiyo, na kuinua mara moja zaidi kilio yetu kuomba. Chini ya paa langu, mbaya sana kwa macho yako safi; Hata hivyo kuna mtumishi anakufa katika nyumba yangu, Bwana, sema 'Mimi si wa thamani' au anakufa.