The murderer’s brow
Quivered with horror. 
’God omnipotent,
Is there no mercy? must our punishment
Be endless? will long ages roll away, 130
And see no term?  Oh! wherefore hast Thou made
In mockery and wrath this evil earth? 
Mercy becomes the powerful—­be but just: 
O God! repent and save.’

’One way remains: 
I will beget a Son, and He shall bear 135
The sins of all the world; He shall arise
In an unnoticed corner of the earth,
And there shall die upon a cross, and purge
The universal crime; so that the few
On whom My grace descends, those who are marked 140
As vessels to the honour of their God,
May credit this strange sacrifice, and save
Their souls alive:  millions shall live and die,
Who ne’er shall call upon their Saviour’s name,
But, unredeemed, go to the gaping grave. 145
Thousands shall deem it an old woman’s tale,
Such as the nurses frighten babes withal: 
These in a gulf of anguish and of flame
Shall curse their reprobation endlessly,
Yet tenfold pangs shall force them to avow, 150
Even on their beds of torment, where they howl,
My honour, and the justice of their doom. 
What then avail their virtuous deeds, their thoughts
Of purity, with radiant genius bright,
Or lit with human reason’s earthly ray? 155
Many are called, but few will I elect. 
Do thou My bidding, Moses!’
Even the murderer’s cheek
Was blanched with horror, and his quivering lips
Scarce faintly uttered—­’O almighty One,
I tremble and obey!’ 160

’O Spirit! centuries have set their seal
On this heart of many wounds, and loaded brain,
Since the Incarnate came:  humbly He came,
Veiling His horrible Godhead in the shape
Of man, scorned by the world, His name unheard, 165
Save by the rabble of His native town,
Even as a parish demagogue.  He led
The crowd; He taught them justice, truth, and peace,
In semblance; but He lit within their souls
The quenchless flames of zeal, and blessed the sword 170
He brought on earth to satiate with the blood
Of truth and freedom His malignant soul. 
At length His mortal frame was led to death. 
I stood beside Him:  on the torturing cross
No pain assailed His unterrestrial sense; 175
And yet He groaned.  Indignantly I summed
The massacres and miseries which His name
Had sanctioned in my country, and I cried,
“Go!  Go!” in mockery. 
A smile of godlike malice reillumed 180
His fading lineaments.—­“I go,” He cried,
“But thou shalt wander o’er the unquiet