"All Hail!"

"All Hail!"

And Judas kissed his Master, and cried ‘Hail!’

      I heard the words as one who dreams he dreamed;

      Then, in an instant’s space, my whole brow seemed

To flame, and, then, to grow most strangely pale,

      For, Judas kissed his Master, and cried “Hail!”

Without, the world was wrapped in purest white,

      And flecked with snow the cold December air;

      Without, was want, and poverty and care;

Within the church, was music, warmth and light,—

      But Judas kissed his Master, and cried “Hail!”

Without, were hungry children hurrying by,

      Tattered and shivering with the Christmas cold;

      And, now and then, a woman, bent and old,

Tottered along, unseen of Christian eye;—

      And Judas kissed his Master, and cried “Hail!”

The organ pealed, and joyous voices sang

      “Peace be on earth and sweet good-will to men.”

      A moment my own heart responded—then—

Loud, loud and clear, through all my being rang—

      And Judas kissed his Master; and cried “Hail!”

Beside me knelt a woman, young and fair,

      With seeming virtue stamped upon her face;

      But while she bent that golden head of grace,

Her heart was black, and she breathing a prayer,

      Betrayed her Master, as she murmured “Hail!”

And near me knelt a man, scarce past his prime,

      With wife and children clustered in his pew;

      And yet unto them all he was untrue;

And I knew well that many and many a time,

      He also falsely kissed Him, crying “Hail!”

And I—I felt my own strength shrink and fail,

      When my mind’s eye turned inward—for I knew

      That one might search and find me not quite true;

And well it were that my false soul should quail,

      When asked if I, too, kissed Him, and cried “Hail!”

The poor-house looms beneath yon gloomy hill,

      And wretched beings perish there of grief;

      But it is warm in here, and their relief

Is naught to us who worship here; and still—

      Still, Judas kissed his Master, and cried “Hail!”

Across the meadows all aswoon with snow,

      The Christmas bells ring joyously away;

      How many of us who kneel here to-day,

And loudly pray, that all our faith may know—

      How many at some chance thought shrink and pale?

            And selfishly betray Him, crying “Hail!”

"All Hail!" printed in Washington Magazine, clipping courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham WA.