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

488 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—