Thy spirit's needs, left flesh and sense behind,
Accepted without shrinking or reserve,
The trans-substantial bread and wine, the Christ
At whose shrine thine own kin were sacrificed.

Here then the moment comes when I crave light.
All 's dark to me. Master, if I be blind.
Thou shalt unseal my lids and bless with sight,
Or groping in the shadows, I shall find
Whether within me or without, dwell night.
Oh cast upon my doubt-bewildered mind
One ray from thy clear heaven of sun-bright faith,
Grieving, not wroth, at what thy servant saith.

Where are the signs fulfilled whereby all men
Should know the Christ ? Where is the wide-winged peace
Shielding the lamb within the lion's den ?
The freedom broadening with the wars that cease ?
Do foes clasp hands in brotherhood again ?
Where is the promised garden of increase.
When like a rose the wilderness should bloom ?
Earth is a battlefield and Spain a tomb.

Our God of Sabaoth is an awful God
Of lightnings and of vengeance, — Christians say.