A winged rustling reached
His ear. ’Twas not the Father’s angel with
Refreshment’s chalice for a weary soul—
An unclean spirit with its batlike wings
Outstretched upon the air flew unto Him.
He had to suffer Satan to sit on
His cross, lean toward His head. For faint within
Him was His spirit and weak to resist.
And Satan then said: Woeful Sufferer,
Upon Thy cross of wood we meet again!