The glare of Hell it was, the haggard light,
And tragic to His ears, from Galilee,
Like wailing children sobbed His native sea:
Then on the cruel nails He strained upright
With sinews drawn as steel, and cast His sight
Over the blackness, buThe might not see —
Even He the Christ. He plucked against the tree
With piteous hands, and called across the night
Thrice upon God the Father — none replied!
The Heavens were void; ecstatic voices cried,
" Despair! Despair! in death ye may not die! "
He heard: the great sweat beaded on His face,
The vital sob urged outward, and a space
Rose through dissolving faith the Eternal Lie!