When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard
the little Tree. Night and day he watched so
that no harm should come to it. Day by day it
grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it his
choicest rays, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon
it, and the winds sang to it their prettiest songs.
So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until
it became the pride and glory of the Forest.
One day the Tree heard some one coming through the
Forest. “Have no fear,” said the
Angel, “for He who comes is the Master.”
And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands
upon its smooth trunk and branches. He stooped
and kissed the Tree, and then turned and went away.
[Illustration: A. Bida.]
Many times after that the Master came to the Forest,
rested beneath the Tree and enjoyed the shade of its
foliage. Many times He slept there and the Tree
watched over Him. Many times men came with the
Master to the Forest, sat with Him in the shade of
the Tree, and talked with Him of things which the
Tree never could understand. It heard them tell
how the Master healed the sick and raised the dead
and bestowed blessings wherever He walked.
But one night the Master came alone into the Forest.
His Face was pale and wet with tears. He fell
upon His knees and prayed. The Tree heard Him,
and all the Forest was still. In the morning there
was a sound of rude voices and a clashing of swords.
[Illustration: Hofmann.]
Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and
the Tree was hewn to the ground. Its beautiful
branches were cut away, and its soft, thick foliage
was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the Forest
wept.
The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the
Forest saw it no more.
But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of
the Great King stayed that night in the Forest awhile
to say that it had seen that day a Cross raised on
Calvary,—the Tree on which was nailed the
Body of the dying Master.
Eugene Field.
From “A Little Book of Profitable Tales.”
Published by Charles
Scribner’s Sons.
[Footnote 004: Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.]
* * * *
*
46
Last night
I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;—
I stood
in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;
I heard
the children singing, and ever as they sang
Methought
the voice of Angels
From Heaven
in answer rang;—
Methought
the voice of Angels
From Heaven
in answer rang.
Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing
Hosanna
in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
