Page:Poet Lore, volume 28, 1917.djvu/508

Behold, how calmly Rome’s centurion
Speaks with the scribe in white beneath Thy cross!
’Twill ever be thus. They are now heirs of
Thy words, Thy dreams. One shall change his idols,
The other this Jehovah for Thy name,
And on the world shall live as I ordain.

Why didst Thou not then take all those kingdoms
And this world’s glory from my gen'rous hand?
Thy youthful life would not have thus been spent
In shameful torture. Happily couldst Thou
Have lived and brought millions Thy happiness.
But what bring’st Thou? Death and discord Thou spreadst.
Thou fallest first. And for Thy name, Thy dreams,
Hundreds upon hundreds shall spill their blood
On crosses and arenas and scaffolds.
And when ’twill seem Thy dream has been fulfilled,
Then in Thy name, and only in Thy name,
The carnage shall go on. So far as eye
Can see, there, rows of flaming pyres extend
Where sacrifices are burned in Thy name;
And in Thy name numberless wars shall rage,
And in Thy name cities and towns shall burn,
And in Thy name countries shall be laid waste,
And in Thy name curses shall be uttered,
And in Thy name there shall be slavery
Of body and of spirit.

⁠For behold
The centurion and the scribe! The one
Shall murder in Thy name, the other bless
Him in Thy name. Wretched millions shall pay
For Thy dream with their most precious estate,
Their lives,
⁠And o’er the blood that is thus spilled,
Thy dream of God's eternal kingdom and
Heaven’s glory shall rise up like a phantom
That shall reward the dead. A lure to them
In life throughout and on till ends the world!
Why then didst Thou not take all these kingdoms
And glory of this world ? For life is mine.
I am the Life, the lord of all below,
And forever I sit in hearts, in souls—