"'Behold the man!' said Pilate, and I looked.
I knew that He was more than man, and never
Did He the human measure more surpass,
Yet man He was, and so divinely man!
The God in Him, apparent like the sun
To me, made Him not less, more rather, man.
I worshipped Him, and yet I pitied Him!
I never pitied other half so much.
"He was so exquisitely human! Our
Little capacity of suffering pain,
Whether of spirit or of flesh, in Him
Seemed to be carried to unmeasured heights.
What form of anguish ours did He not feel?
Yea, sorrow for sin not His; 'Which one of you,'
He asked once, and no hearer made reply,
'Which one of you convinceth Me of sin?'
Sinless He was, nor ever felt remorse,
That worm which dieth not prey on His soul.
Yet somehow He became so one with us
He felt our sin as if it were His own,
His own to bear in undeservéd woe
Suffered on our behalf, worse than remorse.
All this I blindly felt seeing Him there.
He did not mail Him proof with hero pride
To suffer as if He suffered not, and so
Wrest their vain triumph from His enemies.
They saw Him suffer more than any man,
Not quailing indeed, yet hardening not Himself.
'Never man spake like this man,' some one said;
I say, suffered man never so as He.
How my heart bled for Him when Pilate spoke
Those words, 'Behold the man!' And Pilate too,
I pitied him. Pity, with worship blent
Into one overmastering passion, poured
Out of my heart toward Jesus; but toward him,
Pilate, that weak, that wicked, went instead
Pity with horror, doubtful which was more.
Forgive me that I mix myself with this.
Indeed I could not tell you all in all
My story, not another's, of the Lord,
Unless, besides the things I saw or heard,
I told you also how they seemed to me,
What thoughts, what feelings started in my breast."
The purged high passion with which Mary spoke,
Calm though she kept with costly self-command,
Betrayed itself to Paul observing her.
He knew the tension of remembered pain,
Imagined with such vividness of recall
That well-nigh Mary suffered it all afresh,
Had touched already the extremest bound
Of what that spirit, in its shaken shrine
Of frail flesh quivering so, could safely bear.
He spoke and said: "O Publius, there is much
Remaining still for Mary to recite
Of the last things to Jesus here on earth,
Both His obedience faithful unto death,
And His victorious rising from the grave.
So thou, feast-master of the hour, consent,
Let us—thine own urbane feast-mastership
Resumed then—meet, if God will, yet once more
To hear this solemn history to the end."
Such word from Paul was mastership transferred
To him; and Publius promptly, without sense
Of yielding, yielded and broke up the feast.
BOOK XVII.
THE STORY OF THE CROSS.
When the company next assemble, Publius greets them with a feast spread in his house. This gives occasion for his explaining the customs of his nation in the matter of recognizing various divinities at feasts. Paul replies, setting forth the Christian doctrine on this point. Mary, in due time about to begin her narrative, is seized with a sudden faintness, which however soon yielding to restoratives supplied by Ruth, she goes on and relates the incidents of the crucifixion of Jesus.