C. M. VERSCHOYLE 621

Thou drinkest of my cup, I drink of Thine, Thou art immortal, I shall be divine ; Dreaming, Thou risest from Thy painful Throne, Waking, Thou drawest to Thee me, Thine own. I kissed Thee gently—Thou hast understood ? Out on the silly cowards who deserted Thee, Whom men call good. Thou and JI are free, We see nct as the others see, We dream— And that is times away. Far down the stream Of heavenly ways we see our paths unite Where the veils fall, and day For me replaces night—
(The city quakes, the earth is full of blood— I, I that love Thee raised Thee on this Rood !)
Farewell, my Love, my Master, I have dared For Thee that lesser men had left undone, Be my love hereby proved, I have not spared To give my God where God but gave His Son, I bear such pains, my body was not formed To see the struggles of a dying God, Or hold the terror of a prisoned soul Striving for freedom: I am fain Of silence, and the peace of night again. Night brooding over Galilee, And our small company Each with his portioned dole Quietly laid about Thee on the sod, Beneath which, now, there is no peace for me, For Thou and I have work to do—Oh God !
622 C. M. VERSCHOYLE
Forsaken, helpless, therefore doubly to be loved— See how I yearn o’er Thee!
Yet are Thy throes soon past, And mine, aeonial, scarce begun, For where Thy name is honoured, I am cursed ; Outcast, reviled, I down the ages go, Death but delivers me to greater woe. But where Thy passion is rehearsed Our names are linkéd still, And Thine shall such a heavenly dew distil That mine shall be washed pure and sweet some day, And children’s lips sing ‘ Judas ’, like a kiss, But in no softer way Than fell that kiss with which I did betray Thy sad humanity, Freeing the Godhead for eternity—
(The city quakes, the air is full of blood,— Judas that loves Thee raised Thee on this Rood !)
These triumphs are too keen, we die,
So sharp the sacrifice, the agony. Keep Thou the hapless Judas in Thy heart,
Nor fail me on that far-off day
When all that erred in my sad deed is purged away. My lowly part
Was just to make the sacrifice complete,
Adding to heavenly stature earthly feet: Thou art uplifted, I shall be cast down, Master, farewell, until my destined crown
Is won, and all Thou strivest for fulfilled.
I am not worthy that my blood be spilled Like Thine: in grosser pangs be spirit torn From my gross body, let the wide world scorn