The Brazen Serpent

Sweet type of the Saviour — the serpent of brass,
By Moses once set on the pole,
Of which it is written, “Who to it but looks,
Was made — at that moment — made whole.”

No matter if dying — life ebbing away,
The pulse beating languid and slow,
A look to the serpent, yea, only a look —
Caused life’s freshened current to flow.

And, lo! the sweet Antitype — Jesus, there see,
Upraised from the earth, on the cross!
And never a sinner who looks unto Him,
Shall know condemnation or loss!

To look is to live — eternally live,
And bask in the sunshine of heaven;
To heed not the message Is choosing to die,
Unblest, self-condemn’d, unforgiven!

O look, sinner, look! the poison extends!
And death is uprising in view;
It calls upon sin bitten sufferers to gaze, —
O listen, it calleth to you!
A.M.