By James M. Warnack

Come, sell me into bondage, if you will;

Cast me in prison, bind me down with chains;

Beat me with stripes,

Smile when the red blood flows—

And I shall not condemn, but pity you.

Crown me with thorns

—'Twill bring no shame to me,

Nor rob me of one ray of heaven's light—

For on my brow that crown shall blossom fair,

And I will dream

Your kindness placed it there.


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