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PRELUDE PAGE 
 
 The Song of a Heathen 6 
 
 PART I 
 
 A Christmas Hymn 7 
 
 Noel 9 
 
 The Birds of Bethlehem JO 
 
 A Madonna of Fra Lippo Lippi it 
 
 The Old Master 12 
 
 The Christ-Child J3 
 
 The Angfer of Christ 14 
 
 Cost J6 
 
 "There is Nothing New Under the Sun'' J 7 
 
 Holy Land J9 
 
 Easter 20 
 
 ** The Supper at Emmaus ^ 22 
 
 Egypt and Syria 23 
 
 PART II 
 
 Two Worlds , ... 25 
 
 The Word of the *White Tsar 26 
 
 On a Portrait of Servetus 28 
 
 "Despise Not Thou'' 29 
 
 Credo 30 
 
 The Passing of Christ .32 
 
 The Doubter 35 
 
 In Palestine 36 
 
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 OCT n 1903 
 
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 PRELUDE 
 
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 THE SONG OF A HEATHEN 
 
 SOJOURNING IN GALILEE, A. D. 32 
 
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 F Jesus Qirist is a man, — 
 And only a man, — I say 
 That of all mankind I cleave to him, 
 And to him will I cleave alway. 
 
 II 
 
 If Jesus Qirist is a God, — 
 
 And the only God, — I swear 
 I will follow him through heaven and hell, 
 
 The earth, the sea, and the air ! 
 

 PART I 
 
 A CHRISTMAS HYMN 
 
 ELL mCf what is this innumerable throng 
 Singing in the heavens a loud, angelic song ? 
 These are they <who come ivith s'lvift and 
 shining feet 
 From round about the throne of God the Lord of 
 Light to greet* 
 
 II 
 
 Oh, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky, 
 As if with joyful tidings that through the world shall 
 fly? 
 The faithful shepherds these, ivho greatly ivere 
 
 afeared 
 When, as they 'watched their flocks by night, the 
 heavenly host appeared* 
 
 Who are these that follow across the hills of night 
 A star that westward hurries along the fields of light? 
 Three %uise men from the East 'who myrrh and 
 
 treasure bring 
 To lay them at the feet of him their Lord and 
 Christ and King* 
 
IV 
 
 What babe new-bom is this that in a manger cries ? 
 Near on her bed of pain his happy mother lies. 
 
 OK see! the air is shaken zuith <white and hea- 
 venly wings — 
 TTiis is the Lord of alt the earthy this is the King 
 of kings* 
 
 Tell me, how may I join in this holy feast 
 With all the kneeling world, and I of all the least ? 
 Fear not, O faithful heart, but bring ivhat most 
 
 is meet : 
 Bring love alone, true love alone, and lay it at 
 his feet. 
 
Star-dust and vaporous light, — 
 The mist of worlds unborn, — 
 
 A shuddering in the awful night 
 Of winds that bring the mom. 
 
 II 
 
 Now comes the dawn : the circling earth ; 
 
 Creatures that fly and crawl ; 
 And Man, that last, imperial birth ; 
 
 And Qirist, the flower of all* 
 
 Tii 
 
 

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 THE BIRDS OF BETHLEHEM 
 
 I heard the bells of Bethlehem ring — 
 
 Their voice was sweeter than the priests* ; 
 
 I heard the birds of Bethlehem sing 
 Unbidden in the churchly feasts. 
 
 II 
 
 They clung and sung on the swinging chain 
 High in the dim and incensed air ; 
 
 The priests, with repetitions vain. 
 Chanted a never-ending prayer. 
 
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 III 
 
 So bell and bird and priest I heard, 
 But voice of bird was most to me ; 
 
 It had no ritual, no word, 
 
 And yet it sounded true and free. 
 
 IV 
 
 I thought Qiild Jesus, were he there. 
 Would like the singing birds the best. 
 
 And clutch his little hands in air 
 And smile upon his mother^s breast. 
 
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A MADONNA OF FRA LIPPO LIPPI 
 
 No heavenly maid we here behold, 
 Though round her brow a ring of gold ; 
 This baby, solemn-eyed and sweet, 
 Is human all from head to feet. 
 
 II 
 
 Together close her palms are prest 
 In worship of that godly guest ; 
 But glad her heart and unafraid 
 While on her neck his hand is laid. 
 
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 Two children, happy, laughing, gay, 
 Uphold the little child in play; 
 Not flying angels these, what though 
 Four wings from their four shoulders grow* 
 
 IV 
 
 Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee 
 A lesson of humanity; 
 To every mother^s heart forlorn. 
 In every house the Christ is born. 
 
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 Of his dear Lord he pictured all the life^ 
 But not that ancient land, nor the old days ; 
 Not curious he to seek, through learned strife, 
 The look of those far times and unknown ways* 
 
 But in his solemn and long-living art 
 
 Well did he paint that which can never die : 
 The life and passion of the human heart, 
 Unchanged while sorrowing age on age goes by* 
 
 Beneath his brush his own loved people grew. 
 Their rivers and their mountains, saints and lords. 
 The dark Italian mothers whom he knew. 
 
 The sad-eyed nuns, the warriors with drawn swords; 
 And the young Saviour, throned at Mary^s breast, 
 Was but some little child whom he loved best. 
 
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THE CHRIST-CHILD 
 
 A PICTURE BY FRANK VINCENT DU MOND 
 I 
 
 Done is the day of care. 
 
 Into the shadowy room 
 
 Flows the pure evening lights 
 
 To stem the gathering gloom, 
 
 The lily^s flame illume, 
 
 And the bowed heads make bright — 
 
 The heads bowed low in prayer. 
 
 II 
 
 See how the level rays 
 Through the white garments pour 
 Of the holy child, who stands, 
 With bending brow, to implore 
 Grace on the toilers^ store ; 
 Oh, see those sinless hands ! 
 Behold, the Qirist-child prays ! 
 
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 Wait, wait, ye lingering rays, 
 Stand still, O Earth and Sun, 
 Draw near, thou Soul of God — 
 This is the suffering one ! 
 Already the way is begun 
 The pierced Saviour trod ; 
 And now the Qirist-child prays. 
 The holy Christ-child prays. 
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 THE ANGER OF CHRIST 
 
 PALM SUNDAY 
 
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 On the day that Qirist ascended 
 
 To Jerusalem, 
 Singing multitudes attended, 
 And the very heavens were rended 
 
 With the shout of them, 
 
 II 
 
 Qianted they a sacred ditty, 
 Every heart elate ; 
 But he wept in brooding pity. 
 Then went in the holy city 
 
 By the Golden Gate* 
 
 In the temple, lo ! what lightning 
 
 Makes unseemly rout 
 He in anger, sudden, frightening. 
 Drives with scorn and scourge the whitening 
 
 Money-changers out. 
 

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 IV 
 
 By the way that Qirist descended 
 
 From Mount Olivet, 
 I, a lonely pilgrim, wended, 
 On the day his entry splendid 
 Is remembered yet* 
 
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 And I thought : If he, returning 
 
 On this festival, 
 Here should haste with love and yearning, 
 Where would now his fearful, burning 
 
 Anger flash and fall ? 
 
 VI 
 
 In the very house they builded 
 
 To his saving name, 
 *Mid their altars, gemmed and gilded. 
 Would his scourge and scorn be wielded, 
 
 His fierce lightning flame. 
 
 VII 
 
 Once again, O Man of Wonder, 
 Let thy voice be heard ! 
 
 Speak as with a sound of thunder ; 
 
 Drive the false thy roof from under ; 
 Teach thy priests thy word. 
 
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Because Heaven^s cost is Hell, and perfect joy- 
 Hurts as hurts sorrow; and because we win 
 Some boon of grace with the dread cost of sin, 
 Or suffering born of sin ; because the afloy 
 
 Of blood but makes the bliss of victory brighter ; 
 Because true worth hath surest proof herein, 
 That it should be reproached, and called akin 
 To evil things — black making white the whiter ; 
 
 Because no cost seems great near this — that He 
 Should pay the ransom wherewith we were 
 
 priced ; 
 And none could name a darker infamy 
 
 Than that a God was spit upon, — enticed. 
 
 By those He came to save, to the accursed tree, — 
 For this I know that Christ indeed is Qirist. 
 
 16 
 
There is nothing new under the sun ; 
 
 There is no new hope or despair ; 
 The agony just begun 
 
 Is as old as the earth and the air. 
 My secret soul of bliss 
 
 Is one with the singing stars, 
 And the ancient mountains miss 
 
 No hurt that my being mars* 
 
 II 
 
 I know as I know my life, 
 
 I know as I know my pain, 
 That there is no lonely strife, 
 
 That he is mad who would gain 
 A separate balm for his woe, 
 
 A single pity and cover ; 
 The one great God I know 
 
 Hears the same prayer over and over* 
 
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 I know it because at the portal 
 
 Of Heaven I bowed and cried^ 
 And I said: *^Was ever a mortal 
 
 Thus crowned and crucified ! 
 My praise thou hast made my blame ; 
 
 My best thou hast made my worst ; 
 My good thou hast turned to shame ; 
 
 My drink is a flaming thirst.** 
 
 IV 
 
 But scarce my prayer was said 
 
 Ere from that place I turned ; 
 I trembled, I hung my head, 
 
 My cheek, shame-smitten, burned ; 
 For there where I bowed down 
 
 In my boastful agony, 
 I thought of thy cross and crown — 
 
 O Qirist ! I remembered thee. 
 

 HOLY LAND 
 
 
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 This is the earth he walked on ; not alone 
 That Asian country keeps the sacred stain ; 
 Ah^ not alone the far Judean plain^ 
 Mountain and river ! Lo, the sun that shone 
 
 On him, shines now on us ; when day is gone 
 The moon of Galilee comes forth again 
 And lights our path as his ; an endless chain 
 Of years and sorrows makes the round world one* 
 
 The air we breathe, he breathed — the very air 
 That took the mold and music of his high 
 And godlike speech. Since then shall mortal dare 
 
 With base thought front the ever-sacred sky — 
 Soil with foul deed the ground whereon he laid 
 In holy death his pale, immortal head ! 
 
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 When in the starry gloom 
 They sought the Lord Qirist^s tomb, 
 Two angels stood in sight 
 AH dressed in burning white 
 Who unto the women said : 
 'Why seek ye the living among the dead ?*' 
 
 II 
 
 His life, his hope, his heart, 
 
 With death they had no part ; 
 
 For this those words of scorn 
 
 First heard that holy morn. 
 
 When the waiting angels said : 
 
 'Why seek ye the living among the dead?'* 
 
 O, ye of this latter day, 
 Who journey the selfsame way — 
 Through morning's twilight gloom 
 Back to the shadowy tomb ; 
 To you, as to them, was it said : 
 'Why seek ye the living among the dead?" 
 
 20 
 
 
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IV 
 
 The Lord is risen indeed, 
 He is here for your love, for your need — 
 Not in the grave, nor the sky. 
 But here where men live and die ; 
 And true the word that was said : 
 "Why seek ye the living among the dead ?" 
 
 Wherever arc tears and sighs. 
 Wherever are children's eyes. 
 Where man calls man his brother, 
 And loves as himself another, 
 Christ lives ! The angels said : 
 *^ Why seek ye the living among the dead ?" 
 
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 ''THE SUPPER AT EMMAUS" 
 
 A PICTURE BY REMBRANDT 
 
 Wise Rembrandt! thou couldst painty and thou alone, 
 Eyes that had seen what never human eyes 
 Before had looked on ; him that late had passed 
 Onward and back through gates of Death and Life* 
 
 O human face where the celestial gleam 
 
 Lingers ! Oh, still to thee the eyes of men 
 
 Turn with deep, questioning worship ; seeing there. 
 
 As in a mirror, the Eternal Light 
 
 Caught from the shining of the central Soul 
 
 Whence came all worlds, and whither shall return* 
 
 22 
 
 
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EGYPT AND SYRIA 
 
 EGYPT 
 
 I thought, in Egypt, Death was more than Life, 
 It seemed so vast ; its monuments so great ; 
 The emptiness of tombs was such high state, — 
 No living thought, or power, or potentate 
 So glorious seemed, wrapt in such splendid gloom. 
 For I perceived that in each ancient tomb. 
 Long ages since, dead kings for Death made room. 
 Not here the Dead, but Death : — alone, supreme: 
 In Egypt Death was real, — Life a winged Dream* 
 
 
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 SYRIA 
 
 I thought, in Syria, Life was more than Death, 
 
 A tomb there was forsaken of its dead. 
 
 But death filled not the place; here with bowed head 
 
 Worships the world forever at the tread 
 
 Of one who lived, who liveth, and shall live, — 
 
 Whose grave is but a footstep on the sod ; 
 
 Men kiss the ground where living feet have trod. 
 
 Here not to Death but Life, they worship give* 
 
 August is Death, but this one tomb is rife 
 
 With a more mighty presence ; it is Life. 
 
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 PART II 
 TWO WORLDS 
 
 PAGAN-CHRISTIAN 
 
 I 
 THE VENUS OF MILO 
 
 RACE, majesty, and the calm 
 bliss of life ; 
 No conscious war ^twixt 
 human will and duty; 
 Here breathes, forever free from pain 
 and strife, 
 The old, untroubled pagan world of 
 beauty. 
 
 II 
 
 MICHAEL ANGELO'S SLAVE 
 
 Of life, of death the mystery and woe. 
 Witness in this mute, carven stone 
 the whole. 
 That suffering smile were never fash- 
 ioned so 
 Before the world had wakened to a 
 
 soul. 
 
 25 
 
 
 
.• ^ «. • 
 
 THE WORD OF THE WHITE TSAR 
 
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 A VISION OF CHRIST 
 
 This day, a strange and beautiful word was spoken, — 
 Not with the voice of a child, nor the voice of a woman, 
 Nor yet with the voice of a poet, the melody sounded, — 
 Forth from the lips of a warrior, girt for the battle, 
 Breathed this word of words o^er a world astonished. 
 
 'ii 
 
 Prisoners returning from war, and conquering armies. 
 Navies flushed with new and amazing victory, 
 Heard the message, so strange, so high, so entrancing, 
 And soldiers dying of wounds or the wasting of fever. 
 In tropic islands it sounded, through wrecks of cities; 
 O^er burning plains where warlike death was in 
 
 waiting; 
 Armies and navies confronting, in watchful silence. 
 Heard it and wondered ; statesmen stopped their 
 
 debates. 
 And turning their eyes toward the voice, with its 
 
 meaning unlooked for. 
 Listened and smiled with the smile and the sneer of 
 
 the cynic. 
 
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 But the mothers of youths who had died of their 
 
 wounds and of fever, 
 And the poor crushed down by the price of the glory 
 
 of battle 
 And the weight of the wars that have been, and that 
 
 yet are preparing, 
 They from their burdens looked up and uttered their 
 
 blessing : 
 For Peace — the Peace of God — was the warrior's 
 
 prayer 
 
 And I, who heard, I saw in a waking vision 
 An image familiar long to the hearts of mortals, — 
 A face of trouble, a brow celestial, yet human, — 
 In a dream of the day, I saw that suffering spirit, 
 Him accustomed to labor, to anguish not alien. 
 Still mourning for men alone in the valley of 
 
 shadows; — 
 I dreamed that he lifted that face of infinite sorrow. 
 And barkened, — when lo! a light in those eyes of 
 
 sadness 
 Came sudden as day that breaks from the mountains 
 
 of Moab. 
 
 27 
 
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 Thou grim and haggard wanderer, who dost look 
 With haunting eyes forth from the narrow page, 
 I know what fires consumed with inward rage 
 Thy broken frame, what tempests chilled and shook 
 
 Ah, could not thy remorseless foeman brook 
 
 Time's sure devourment, but must needs assuage 
 
 His anger in thy blood, and blot the age 
 
 With that dark crime which virtue's semblance took 
 
 Servetus ! that which slew thee lives to-day. 
 Though in new forms it taints our modern air ; 
 Still in heaven's name the deeds of hell are done ; 
 
 Still on the high-road, 'neath the noonday sun. 
 The fires of hate are lit for them who dare 
 Follow their Lord along the untrodden way. 
 
 28 
 
DESPISE NOT THOU 
 
 Despise not thou thy father's ancient creed, 
 Of his pure life it was the golden thread 
 Whereon bright days were gathered, bead by bead, 
 Till death laid low that dear and reverend head. 
 
 From olden faith how many a glorious deed 
 Hath lit the world ; its blood-stained banner led 
 The martyrs heavenward ; yea, it was the seed 
 Of knowledge, whence our modern freedom spread 
 
 Not always has man's credo proved a snare — 
 But a deliverance, a sign, a flame 
 To purify the dense and pestilent air, 
 
 Writing on pitiless heavens one pitying name ; 
 And 'neath the shadow of the dread eclipse 
 It shines on dying eyes and pallid lips. 
 
 29 
 

 CREDO 
 
 How easily my neighbor chants his creed, 
 
 Kneeling beside me in the House of God^ 
 
 His '' I believe '' he chants, and ** I believe/' 
 
 With cheerful iteration and consent — 
 
 Watching meantime the white, slow sunbeam move 
 
 Across the aisle, or listening to the bird 
 
 Whose free, wild song sounds through the open door* 
 
 Thou God supreme, — I too, I too, believe ! 
 But oh ! forgive if this one human word. 
 Binding the deep and breathless thought of thee 
 And my own conscience with an iron band, 
 Stick in my throat* I cannot say it, thus — 
 This ** I believe ** that doth thyself obscure ; 
 This rod to smite ; this barrier ; this blot 
 On thy most unimaginable face 
 And soul of majesty* 
 
 'T is not man's faith 
 In thee that he proclaims in echoed phrase. 
 But faith in man ; faith not in thine own Christ, 
 
But in another man^s dim thought of him* 
 
 Christ of Judea, look thou in my heart ! 
 
 Do I not love thee, look to thee, in thee 
 
 Alone have faith of all the sons of men — 
 
 Faith deepening with the weight and woe of years ? 
 
 Pure soul and tendcrest of all that came 
 Into this world of sorrow, hear my prayer : 
 
 Lead me, yea, lead me deeper into life. 
 This suffering, human life wherein thou liv'st 
 And breathest still, and hold^st thy way divine. 
 *T is here, O pitying Christ, where thee I seek, 
 Here where the strife is fiercest; where the sun 
 Beats down upon the highway thronged with men. 
 And in the raging mart* Oh ! deeper lead 
 My soul into the living world of souls 
 Where thou dost move. 
 
 But lead me, Man Divine, 
 Wherever thou wiliest, only that I may find 
 At the long journey^s end thy image there. 
 And grow more like to it. For art not thou 
 The human shadow of the infinite Love 
 That made and fills the endless universe ! 
 The very Word of him, the unseen, unknown 
 Eternal Good that rules the summer flower 
 And all the worlds that people starry space ! 
 
 
THE PASSING OF CHRIST 
 
 O Man of light and lore ! 
 Do you mean that in our day 
 The Qirist hath passed away ; 
 That nothing now is divine 
 In the fierce rays that shine 
 Through every cranny and thought ; 
 That Christ as he once was taught 
 Shall be the Christ no more ? 
 That the Hope and Saviour of men 
 Shall be seen no more again ; 
 That, miracles being done, 
 Gone is the Holy One ? 
 And thus, you hold, this Christ 
 For the past alone sufficed ; 
 From the throne of the hearts of the world 
 The Son of God shall be hurled, 
 And henceforth must be sought 
 New prophets and kings of thought ; 
 That the tenderest, truest word 
 The heart of sorrow hath heard 
 Shall sound no more upon earth ; 
 That he who hath made of birth 
 A dread and holy rite ; 
 Who hath brought to the eyes of death 
 32 
 
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A vision of heavenly light. 
 
 Shall fade with our failing faith; — 
 
 He who saw in children's eyes 
 
 Eternal paradise ; 
 
 Who looked through shame and sin 
 
 At the sanctity within ; 
 
 Whose memory, since he died, 
 
 The earth hath sanctified — 
 
 Hath been the stay and the hold 
 
 Of millions of lives untold, 
 
 And the world on its upward path 
 
 Hath led from crime and wrath ; — 
 
 You say that this Christ hath passed 
 
 And we cannot hold him fast ? 
 
 II 
 
 Ah no ! If the Christ you mean 
 Shall pass from this time, this scene, 
 These hearts, these lives of ours^ 
 *T is but as the summer flowers 
 Pass, but return again, 
 To gladden a world of men. 
 For he, — the only, the true, — 
 In each age, in each waiting heart, 
 Leaps into life anew ; 
 Though he pass, he shall not depart. 
 Behold him now where he comes ! 
 Not the Christ of our subtile creeds. 
 But the lord of our hearts, of our homes, 
 Of our hopes, our prayers, our needs ; 
 L.,r;. 33 
 
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 The brother of want and blamc^ 
 The lover of women and men, 
 With a love that puts to shame 
 All passions of mortal ken ; — 
 Yet of all of woman born 
 His is the scorn of scorn ; 
 Before whose face do fly 
 Lies, and the love of a lie ; 
 Who from the temple of God, 
 And the sacred place of laws, 
 Drives forth, with smiting rod, 
 The herds of ravening maws* 
 
 nr is he, as none other can. 
 
 Makes free the spirit of man. 
 
 And speaks, in darkest night. 
 
 One word of awful light 
 
 That strikes through the dreadful pain 
 
 Of life, a reason sane — 
 
 That word divine which brought 
 
 The universe from nought. 
 
I 
 
 Thou Christ, my soul is hurt and bruised ! 
 
 With words the scholars wear me out; 
 My brain overwearied and confused,— 
 
 Thee, and myself, and all I doubt. 
 
 II 
 
 And must I back to darkness go 
 Because I cannot say their creed ? 
 
 I know not what I think ; I know 
 Only that thou art what I need. 
 
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IN PALESTINE 
 I 
 
 Ah no! that sacred land 
 Where fell the wearied feet of the lone Christ 
 Robs not the soul of faith. I shall set dov.Ti 
 The thought was in my heart* If that hath lost 
 Aught of its child-belief, 't was long ago, 
 Not there in Palestine; and if 't were lost, 
 He were a coward who should fear to lose 
 A blind, hereditary, thoughtless faith, — 
 Comfort of fearful minds, a straw to catch at 
 On the deep-gulfed and tempest-driven sea. 
 
 ^, 
 
 Full well I know how shallow spirits lack 
 The essence, flinging from them but the form: 
 I have seen souls lead barren lives and cursed, — 
 Bereft of light, and all the grace of life, — 
 Because for them the inner truth was lost 
 In the frail symbol — hated, shattered, spumed. 
 
 But faith that lives forever is not bound 
 To any outward semblance, any scheme 
 Fine- wrought of human wonder, or self-love. 
 Or the base fear of never-ending pain. 
 
True faith doth face the blackness of despair, — 
 Blank faithlessness itself ; bravely it holds 
 To duty unrewarded and unshared ; 
 It loves where all is loveless ; it endures 
 In the long passion of the soul for God* 
 
 *T was thus I thought : — 
 At last the very land whose breath he breathed, 
 The very hills his bruised feet did climb ! 
 This is his Olivet ; on this Mount he stood. 
 As I do now, and with this same surprise 
 Straight down into the startling blue he gazed 
 Of the fair, turquoise mid-sea of the plain. 
 That long, straight, misty, dream-like, violet wall 
 Of Moab, — lo, how close it looms; the same 
 Quick, human wonder struck his holy vision. 
 About these feet the flowers he knew so well 
 Back where the city's shadow slowly climbs 
 There is a wood of olives gaunt and gray, 
 And centuries old ; it holds the name it bore 
 That night of agony and bloody sweat. 
 
 I 
 
 I tell you when I looked upon these fields 
 And stony valleys, — through the purple veil 
 Of twilight, or what time the Orient sun 
 Made shining jewels of the barren rocks, — 
 Something within me trembled ; for I said : 
 This picture once was mirrored in his eyes ; 
 This sky, that lake, those hills, this loveliness, 
 
 
 37 
 
To him familiar were ; this is the way 
 
 To Bethany ; the red anemones 
 
 Along yon wandering path mark the steep road 
 
 To green-embowered Jordan. All is his : 
 
 These leprous outcasts pleading piteously ; 
 
 This troubled country, — troubled then as now, 
 
 And wild and bloody, — this is his own land. 
 
 On such a day, girdled by these same hills. 
 
 Pressed by this dark-browed, sullen, Orient crowd, 
 
 On yonder mount, spotted with crimson blooms. 
 
 He closed his eyes, in that dark tragedy 
 
 Which mortal spirit never dared to sound. 
 
 O God ! I saw those haunting eyes in every throng. 
 
 II 
 
 Were he divine, and maker of all worlds. 
 The Godhead veiled in suffering, for our sins, — 
 An unimagined splendor poured on earth 
 In sacrifice supreme, — this were a scene 
 Fit for the tears of angels and all men. 
 If he were man, — a passionate human heart, 
 Like unto ours, but with intenser fire. 
 And whiter from the deep and central glow ; 
 Who loved all men as never man before, 
 Who felt as never mortal all the weight 
 Of this world^s sorrow, and whose sinless hands 
 Upstretched in prayer did seem, indeed, to clutch 
 The hand divine ; if he were man, yet dreamed 
 That the Ineffable through him had power — 
 
Even through his touch — to scatter human pain 
 (Setting the eternal seal on his high hope 
 And promised kingdom); were he only man, 
 Thus, thus to aspire, and thus at last to fall I 
 Such anguish ! such betrayal ! Who could paint 
 That tragedy ! one human, piteous cry — 
 ** Forsaken I ^* — and black death ! If he were God, 
 'T was for an instant only, his despair ; 
 Or were he man, and there is life beyond. 
 And, soon or late, the good rewarded are. 
 Then, too, is recompense. 
 
 But were he man. 
 And death ends all ; then was that tortured death 
 On Calvary a thing to make the pulse 
 Of memory quail and stop. 
 
 The blackest thought 
 The human brain may harbor comes that way. 
 Face that, — face all, — yet lose not hope nor heart ! 
 One perfect moment in the life of love. 
 One deed wherein the soul unselfed gleams forth, — 
 These can outmatch all ill, all doubt, all fear. 
 And through the encompassing burden of the world 
 Burn swift the spirit^s pathway to its God. 
 
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