For every tree that stood there, And the green grass every blade, Shrivelled and died on every side, Whenever the price was paid. And in despair they left him there, And there his body lay, Till his sad soul came, all black with shame, And carried it away. And those denied a sepulture In that most dismal spot, Gibbered and flew, a ghastly crew, Incensed with rage, that grew and grew, Against Iscariot. For their souls were all in torment, While their bodies uncovered lay, And never a moment's rest was theirs, Either by night or day. That was a place of wailings, And the grisly things of Death,-- The bare black arms of the trees above, And the black quag underneath. No light of the moon fell on it, Nor ever a star did shine On the quivering face of that dread place, Because of Iscariot's sin. Then there came by the soul of Iscariot, The same who sold his Lord, And he dragged his body after him, But never spake a word. Since earth his body would not, He must drag it to and fro, He had tried in vain to be quit of it, But it would not let him go. So the soul of Judas Iscariot Came by the Potter's Field, And there the ill his deed had wrought Was unto him revealed. And when the others saw him, They leaped at him eagerly;-- "This is he for whom we suffer! --'Tis he! 'Tis he! 'Tis he!" Then all afire with mad desire, They chased him through the dark, And each soul carried his dead bodie, Grim, and stiff, and stark. They struck at him with their bodies, They cursed him for his sin, They made to tear his dumb soul there, With their fingers long and lean. And Judas fled in his horror, With that fell crew behind, And as they sped the people said Death rode upon the wind. They chased him near, they chased him far, Because of his treachery, And ever he just escaped their lust, And ever they were nigh. They chased him near, they chased him far, And ever they were nigh, And never a star shone out on them Out of the cold black sky. And as they sped by Calvary, There were empty crosses three,-- And on the ground, below the mound, Lay one in agony. "_Three times I swore I knew Him not, And then--He looked on me. Ah, such a look!--no harshest word Had ever proved so sharp a sword To my inconstancy_. "_Three times I did deny Thee, Lord! And yet, thou couldst forgive, Now am I thine--in life, in death; Thee will I serve with every breath, While I have breath to give_." They sped by an open window, Where one knelt all alone, In great amaze, in greater grief, In woe that wrestled with belief, The Mother mourned her Son. "_My son, I knew thee more than man,-- Ah me!--and the heart of me! Yet, man in God, and God in man, Still wast thou part of me_. "_The nails through thy dear hands and feet,-- Ah me! they pierced my own. The thorns that on thy brow they plied,-- The spear they drove into thy side,-- The pangs thy Godhead could not hide,-- They pierced me too, my son_.