" Gaze in my pallid face, my worn eyes tearful,
Look at my lacerated palms that bleed,
Gaze on my body scourged, and thin, and fearful,
Thou of my race and creed!

" And seeing me here, borne down by Fate's contention,
Learn from my lips the awful truth, that when
I died, God gave me not the grand ascension
Believed by many men.

" Cast out of Heaven and Hell, my woeful spirit
Is no more great or less than thine will be;
No realms of peace did my sad soul inherit,
There is no rest for me!

" Betrayed, beguiled, an object of derision,
For hours upon the cross I hung! In song
Tell unto men, oh man, thy truthful vision,
Sing of my nameless wrong! "

*****

Then the sad silence of my vision rending,
I heard a wail of terrible despair,
And saw a hundred spectral hands descending,
Clutch at his gory hair . . . . . !

'Twas o'er! The martyr ghost far from me fluttered.
Sighing, I woke, and gaining thought's control,
Suddenly felt the truth of all he uttered!
And terror seized my soul! ...