'But though I speak thus of the vanishing
Of all this fabric of a mighty state,
All this imperial pomp and power of Rome,
And the succeeding of an order new,
A heavenly kingdom with a heavenly King,
Yet know, O judges, that in all good faith,
I ever everywhere have taught and shown
Loyal submission to the powers that be.
By letter, ere I came myself to Rome,
I charged this duty on my brethren here;
I told them they could not in any wise
Obedient be to God, and not obey
The powers by Him set over them to rule:
Ask my disciples, make them witnesses,
They all will testify I taught them thus.
Not that my life is such a prize to me;
But I would have the holy name of Him
Who bought me with His blood, and made of me
A herald of His glorious grace to men—
Yea, I would have that ever-blesséd Name
Pure of reproach through me before you all.

'I thank my judges that at least I may
Thus freely speak once more before I die.
A cloud of witnesses around me here
Hangs in my eye; I might behold, beyond
These and above, innumerably bright,
Thick ranks of hovering angels beckoning me;
But I stretch out my hands in suit to these,
My fellows, and beseech them one and all,
And you, my judges, I beseech—and would
I might beseech the whole world with my voice
Now speaking for its last time in men's ears!—
Be reconciled through Jesus Christ to God.
With me it is a light thing to be judged
Of men; albeit obeisance due I pay
To this tribunal as ordained of God.
But I look forward to be judged of One
Before whose eyes the secrets of men's hearts
Lie open like the pages of a book.
And ye too all who judge me, and all these
Who see me judged—yea, and himself, your head,
The emperor, with his counsellors, and all
That under earth slumber or in the sea,
The living generations and the dead,
One congregation and assembly called
At last together whencesoever found,
Shall stand before the judgment-seat of Christ.
O, I adjure you and entreat you, hear
Betimes my message sent from God to you.
One advocate alone, none other, can
Plead to the Father with effect for you.
But He can, for it is the Judge Himself
Will be your advocate, if but you will
Now choose Him to be such, and He will speak
For you with a resistless eloquence
Of wounds shown in His hands and feet and side,
Signs of His suffering borne in the behalf
Of all those who will come to God by Him.

'I have a vision of that judgment-scene:
These wide-embracing walls I see expand
To the horizon's utmost rim around;
This roof is lifted to the top of heaven;
This multitude is multiplied to count
Beyond all count; yon judgment-throne becomes
Dazzling beyond the splendors of the sun
With an exceeding whiteness, such as eye
Of man nor angel can abide to see;
And He that sits thereon, and makes it dark
By the excess of brightness in His face,
Speaks, and His voice to hear is as the sound
Of many waters rolling down in flood.
I heard that voice once speaking from the sky
Amid a blaze of light falling around
Me at midnoon that blanched the Syrian sun
Burning from his meridian height on me.
O men, my brethren, it was a dread voice;
But I obeyed it, and I therefore lived.
Obey it ye, heard speaking through my lips
And bidding, Come! O, sweet and dreadful voice,
Both sweet and dreadful, uttering now that word!
Dreadful, not sweet, it then will sound to those
Who hearing thus the invitation, Come,
Harden their hearts to disobey. For then
In changed tones it will speak a different word.
'Hence, curséd of my Father!' it will say,
And drive the disobedient as with sword
Of flame forth issuing and pursuing them,
Pursuing and devouring, while they fly
In vain forever and forever far
Before it, and no refuge anywhere
In all the boundless universe of God
Find from the fiery fangs of that fierce sword!'

"I never saw," said Luke, "such pity cast
Such pathos over such solemnity,
Such faithfulness to God, to man, as then,
While he in that hushed audience spoke these things,
Lived in Paul's looks and tuned his prophet tones.
No one that listened and beheld escaped
The power of God; and some perhaps believed.

"But they condemned the guiltless man to die;
And, like his Lord, he died without the gates.
They led him to a chosen spot not far
Beyond the city walls—he all the way
Seen walking like one meekly triumphing;
For a train followed and attended him,
Before whom he was as a conqueror.
Where gushed a fountain in a pine-tree shade
Suburban, there they made their prisoner stay.
Here they beheaded him; Christ suffered it—
What matter to His servant how he died?
The pain was short, if sharp; perhaps indeed
There was no pain at all, but only swift
Transition to a state of perfect rest
From pain, from weariness, from every ill,
Forever in the presence of the Lord.
The dear dissevered head we joined again
To the worn-weary body as we could:
We comforted ourselves to see the peace
That the white-shining countenance expressed,
And stanched our tears and eased our aching hearts
To think that all his toil was over now,
And all the contradiction he so long
Had suffered from his thankless fellow-men;
And that he had aspired triumphantly
At last to be at home with Christ in heaven,
There to behold the glory that He had,
Ere the beginning of the world, with God
His Father.

"So we buried him in hope
There on the selfsame spot where he had fallen;
And said to one another the great words,
Heroic, heartening, full of heavenly truth,
Himself with streaming tears once spoke to us—
You will remember—then when Mary died,
And when we buried her that sunset hour
There on that holy hill in Melita."

With such a gentle cadence to his tale,
Luke ended; and those sat in silence long,
Remembering with sweet heart-ache what had been.
Then, having knelt together first in prayer,
And having lifted a pathetical
High hymn of triumph over death, they rose
Calm and addressed themselves anew to life:
A little patience and the Lord would come.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE EPIC OF SAUL