Song of the wave / George Cabot Lodge [electronic text]

XXVII
"ELl! ELI! LAMA SABACTHANI!"

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, but He might not see— Even He the Christ. He plucked against the treeWith 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!