But stoop Thyself to gather my life’s rose,
And smile away my mortal to Divine.’”
One can hardly quit this subject without recalling the awful significance of a cry that once expressed, if one may say it, inexpressible anguish,—anguish indescribable, incommunicable,—“My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me!” Penultimate words, these were; and appalling in their suggestiveness of uttermost desolation. But not the last words of all. He was not alone, consciously not alone, at the very last. Later than these, and triumphant over these—however subdued and serene the triumph—came those other words, Divinely calm, as became the Speaker,—“Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” And it was when He had this said, that He gave up the ghost.
FOOTNOTES
[1] “Wave your hand; the motion which has apparently ceased is taken up by the air, from the air by the walls of the room, etc., and so by direct and re-acting waves, continually comminuted, but never destroyed.”—Grove’s Correlation of Physical Forces.
[2] The Candidate, Lord Sandwich.
[3] See on the scope of the words ἐπιθυμῶν χορτασθῆναι (St. Luke xvi. 21), Analecta Theologica (Rev. W. Trollope’s) in loc.
[4] Earlier in the tale there is a touch to remind us of Lear on the heath:
“‘Know you his conduct?’ ‘Yes, indeed, I know,