W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.
The BetrayalMatthew Bridges (18001894)
No ray of comfort can appear
For Him who comforts all:
Angels reluctant fold their plumes
As the great Foe his post assumes
Upon the field to fall.
Such as the Serpent may command
To bruise Emmanuel’s Heel;
And through the centre of His Heart
Send, dipt in poison, many a dart,
He bitterly must feel.
See how those lurid torches gleam
In fitful streaks of light:
Weapons of war are glittering there,
The sword that knows not how to spare
Either by day or night.
Just as a Demon, when he glances
Upon some spotless prey:
And clothes himself in gentle form,
Lest, prescient of the coming storm,
The prize should pass away.
To meet the Traitor, and reprove
That execrable kiss?
Yielding Thyself for sinful man,
Whose life on earth is but a span—
Was ever Love like this?
Whene’er against Thy will benign
My treacherous heart hath stood:
Mine are the lips that have betrayed,
Mine is the debt which must be paid
With Groans, and Tears, and Blood.