The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1884-04-30
Religious Reading.
STONE THE W0MAN-LET THE
NAN 60 FREE.

l
STONE THE WoMAN-LET THE
NAN 60 FREE.
The noontide rests upon Jerusalem;
The air is golden and an azure sky
Bends DER the love Y land: the trees beyond
Make whispering music with soft, clashing
And blend their low tones with the voice of
streams,
The distant laughter in the reaperS' fields,
And gentle footballs, us the cameis pass
The streets are silent, for the idle drones
Who bring no honey TO the human hive
But swarm at corners and at open doors,
Eager Tor anything 10 stimulate
The dull monotony of idle hours,
Have sought the temple where the saviour
sits,
To ca mly criticise His mode of speech,
And hear IL He, an obscure Nazarene,
Can fashion it with such strange subtleness
As thrills, men say, the coolest listening heart.
But now the dreamy sientness is o'er;
A group of Scribes and Pharsees appear,
And in their midst q wreiched woman moves,
A blot upon the beauty of the day.
Her head is benti in uttermost despair,
Her hands are clasped upon her beating
Ane burning tears az falling down the
cheeks
Where conscious sin has sent the rushing
blood
Shame clothes her as a garment while her
soul
Shudders within its desecrated shrine,
Stained and unutterably dishonored,
So sad sight so loathsomely deformed,
That angels weep and tremble as they gaze.
Her brow is hidden; for ahl never more
Can she lift up her youthful womans face,
That once was beautiful with innocence,
And raise her vision to the holy skies
With eyes rejecting their blue purity
oh, nevermore, through the long waste OF
years,
Can she walk upright in the ways Of men,
And look the wide word bravelyin the face,
Strcng in the untouched whIteness Of her life; :,
Nor taste again the simple Joys OF home
The tender sweetness OF modest ways
A husbands love, the touch OF infant lips,
The trust Of friends, tine happy fire-lit hearth,
The little tendrll joys that softly CHING,
And give their perfume to clean, sweet life.
Itmight have been, it never more shall be
Sins dark SIMEON has broken oer her heart
And left 1t waste and barren. Not for her
The scented blossoms that the guileless pluck,
The lilies waiting for the true and pure.
She wronged the better instincts Of her soul.
Chose the black passion-how'rs Of sin and
death,
And stands accursed before God and man.
They hurry onward through the sun-llt
With pitiess, coarse jests and mocking words.
She is not tit to walk the fruitful earth;
She must be stoned, the law must be fulfilled.
But first they'll lead her to tn 8 Nazarene,
Whose doctrines are suspicious, Strangely new,
Unpalatable always to q Scribe
Or honest Pharisee who loves tho .aw.
Let Him pass Judgment, and award her doom;
They say He's mild and mercitul; perchance
They II snare HIM into breaking Jewish codes,
And be revenged for ail His suptleyes.
They reached the temple; in moment
more
The sinner stands before the Saviours face
How wonderful that tace the burning tongue
OF seraphim would fail to picture It,
Divineiy sweet, unfathomaby calm,
Unutterab.y tender: IN the eyes
Patience so godllke and compassionate,
A look of Mary round the sacred lips
That wear a sign of weariness repressed,
AS though pain slept q little farther back.
How young He seems, and yet He seems not
young,
But grave and gentle, as If many cares
Pressed on an infinitely loving heart.
The trembling woman kneels before hel
judge
And clasps her hands upon her guilty face.
Never before seemed purity so pure;
Never before was Sin so horrible.
She did not plead. she knelt there clothed ir
shame,
An outcast and degraded-weeplng knelt,
Waiting the. words-"The woman must bt
The crowd draws near to hear what Jesu,
says,
And silence steals upon the multitude;
Tho sun-light falls athwart tho temple door;
Through open doorway signs the fragran
wind;
The little children patter with soft steps
In quiet corners, knowing not as yet
Life's tragedy, intense and passionate.
But Jesus ts3uso speaks; the temple grows more
And watching angels thrill with endless love
Let him" He says, who knows that he Il
Cast first the stone at her." The men look III
Startled little; then they nang their heads,
And bushes gather on the brows unused
To show such color Slow y, one by one,
Without word, they sink abashcd away,
"Go sin no more" He says. And forth sh
To mend the ruined beauty of her life,
To wash her soul in penitential tears
And ever after with undying love f
To follow Christ, lamenting.
But where Is he, the sharer in her guilt?
The man whom God appointed rs the head,
Whom she should lCok upon as less than Goo
But noble, lovable and worthy trust,
Incapable of wrongng that weak heart
That seeks Its strength In meekly loving hin
lie he not, too, in deepest grief ind shame,
Filled to o'ertowing with an agony
That can not, like the woman's, lind relief
In tears that scorch and dry upon the cheek
Is he not, too, surrounded by group
That look on him with loathlng, holding up
His shamed manhood, his insuted God,
The ruin wrought upon another SOUL
iHeaping upon him singing words OF scorn
That, burning in his ears, awake the sense
Or utter degradationl
A sumptuous feast Is spread upon his board,
And Joyous guests are pledging him in wine
He's clothed In purple, and tho flashing ligh
Or diamonds sparkle on his breast ana hands
Odorous scents are stealing from his robes
And watching slaves are hanging on his looks
The ncing girls are waiting In the halls
With Tyre ana slstrum to beguile the hour
And touch the senses Into soft delight;
And half pleased smiles are playing round hi
lips;
And conscious laughter ripplos on the air,
As pleasant banter lightly tells the tale,
And friendship merriy accuses him
OF having won woman from her lord.
Yes stone the woman-let the man go free
Draw back your skirts lest they perchanc
may touch
Her garments as she passes; but to him
Put 70 tn a willing hand to ella with his
That led her to destruction and disgrace.
Shut up from her The sacred ways OF toll
That she no more may win an honest meal.
But ope to him all honorable paths.
Where he may win distinction. Give to him
Fair presseddown measures OF life's sweeteE
Joys.
Pass her o maiden, with pure, proud fact
If she puts out poor, polluted palm;
But lay thy hand in his on bridal day,
And swear to cling to him with wifely love