The Altar | ||
1.
“I have heard the blasphemy of the multitude, and fear is
on every side.”
High in the dim recess of that dark hall
The midnight conclave now before me pass,
Gathering around the impious Caiaphas.
Our God, Whose Word upholds this worldly ball,
Whose Presence doth Angelic hosts appal,
Stands bound; and now the rude insulting mass
Press on Him! Now, O dreadful sight, alas!
The uplifted hand of the rough menial
Strikes on the Mouth Divine that meekly spoke
(The healéd slave from Edom gave the stroke),
The hand against its Maker! Now I see
Earnest appeals, judicial mockery,
And gratulations at successful ill,
While lights more dim the noisy conclave fill.
The Altar | ||