Born: 1815, Glas­gow, Scot­land.

Died: Jan­u­ary 30, 1888.

Buried: Kil­mar­nock Ce­me­te­ry, Kil­mar­nock, East Ayr­shire, Scot­land.



Marion was the daugh­ter of Da­vid Aird and Mar­ga­ret John­ston.

She moved to Kil­mar­nock by 1846.



The Man of Sorrows

Who is He that purple wearing,
All the taunts of malice bearing—
Silent ’neath the mocker’s scorn?
As a lamb to slaughter leading,
Bound and wounded, faint and bleeding,
Pale and weary—sorrow-worn;
Scourged and smitten, uncomplaining,
Dust and gore His garments staining—
See! they pierce with thorns His brow;
Fainting, ’neath the cross now bending,
Tears with Salem’s daughters blending!
Son of Man ! ’tis Thou! ’tis Thou.

Hear our sins round Calvary crying,
Crucify Him! Crucify Him!
See! they smite Him on the head.
King of Jews they, mocking, hail Him,
Naked to the tree they nail Him,
’Neath our hands the Sinless bled.
Rugged nails His hands have riven,
Hung ashamed ’twixt earth and Heaven—
Blameless, numbered with the worst.
O’er His pale face gore-drops streaming,
Frownless still, with love still beaming,
’Neath the wrath of God accurst.

Hark! He prays, while agonizing,
For the murderers who despise Him!
Sinners! whence that anguished cry?
Sore reproach My heart is breaking,
God! My God! hast Thou forsaken
Thy Belovèd—why? oh! why?

Sin alone could thus accuse Him,
Though it pleased the Lord to bruise Him,
All our sins were on Him laid;
For transgression was He stricken,
For the sheep the shepherd smitten
Thus the full atonement made.

It is finished! hear Him crying—
Meekly bows His head, and dying,
Thus He justice satisfies;
With His blood each promise sealing,
Wondrous love to man revealing,
God His covenant ratifies.
Trembling nature quails in thunder,
Heav’n, ashamed, grows black with wonder:
See! the sun hath veiled His face!
Hear, the awe-struck heathen crying,
Is the God of nature dying?
Hath th’Eternal left His place?

Heav’n and hell around are pressing,
Man’s eternal curse or blessing,
Dead—the Lord of Life to see.
Helpless as an infant sleeping,
Friends—how few! around Him weeping,
Loose Him from the bloody tree;
Weeping women o’er Him bending,
Trembling fear their bosoms rending,
Mourn th’eclipse of Glory’s sun;
While in linen cloths they wind Him,
With the cords of death they bind Him
Can these hold the Holy One?

Arch-apostate! though you slay Him,
In the dust of death you lay Him,
Thou hast bruised His heel at length!
See His garments! O! how glorious!
Travelling in His might victorious—
Edom! He hath spoiled thy strength.
Father—God! oh! what could move Him,
Sons of Adam thus to love them,
Thus to give the Son to death?
’Tis His will, and Thou hast done it,
Take the kingdom, Thou hast won it,
Even so,
the Father saith.

Salem—see thy waning glory,
Clouds of doom are gathering o’er thee—
Now thy fallen shrine grows dark;
Stars on Zion-hill declining,
Tell the promised Sun is shining!
Hark! they echo—we depart.
See, the temple veil is rending!
See, the rising God ascending!
King of Glory, enter in.
Thou the gates of brass hast riven,
Paved a way from earth to Heaven—
Pardon’s won for darkest sin.

To the inner shrine returning,
With unceasing incense burning,
Blood-bought mercy to proclaim;
Lift the scepter, reign for ever—
Worthy is the Lamb for ever—
Worthy is the Lamb once slain.
Sacrifice, by God appointed,
Rich with gifts for men anointed,
Shadows melt in perfect day;
Prophet, Priest, and Mediator,
Man-Redeemer, God, Creator—
Aaron, cast thy robes away.

Christ is mighty to deliver,
Mercy is built up for ever
In the broken law fulfilled;
His right hand the curse removèd,
God well pleased in the Belovèd—
Sinai’s peals in Calvary stilled.
In the great propitiation,
Sin condemned, proclaim salvation,
Sinner, here your sentence see.
See the debt your sins had spotted,
By His Holy arm there blotted,
Nailed upon th’accursèd tree.

See the cleansing fountain open,
In His body bruised and broken,
Pardon through atoning blood;
Righteousness by faith revealing,
Here for every wound is healing,
Peace proclaimed ’twixt man and God.

From Marion P. Aird
The Home of the Heart, 1846



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