The Darkened Sun.
NOW 'tis high noon and, solemn sight,
The sun withdraws his face,
And shadows, over all the land,
The beams of day replace.
All nature, wrapped in solemn awe,
Stood shuddering in dismay,
As hours of stern, Almighty wrath,
Passed tediously away.
Once, from the cross, an anguished voice
Came languidly: "I thirst,"
And then a cry, as though the heart,
So full of love, had burst.
"Eli, Eli," these were the words,
"Lama Sabachthani?"
Oh! what acutest agony
Wrung forth that mournful cry!
Meanwhile a sponge, in vinegar,
One standing near Him dips;
And, putting it upon a reed,
He lifts it to His lips.
He then, with exclamation loud,
His voice aloft doth send,
Saying: "Father, now into Thy hands
"My spirit I commend!"
And, then, behold! the temple vail
From top to bottom rent;
An earthquake shook the city's walls,
The rocks to pieces went.
And the centurian, with his guard,
Seeing these signs abroad,
Exclaimed in fear: "Now, of a truth,
"This was the Son of God."