Spake through her lips, and in her stead! What if this were of God? URSULA. Gainsay it dare we not. GOTTLIEB. Ah, then Amen! Elsie! The words that thou hast said Are strange and new for us to hear, And fill our hearts with doubt and fear. Whether it be a dark temptation Of the Evil One, or God's inspiration, URSULA. Kiss me. Good night; and do not weep! ELSIE goes out. Ah, what an awful thing is this! I almost shuddered at her kiss, As if a ghost had touched my cheek, I am so childish and so weak! As soon as I see the earliest gray Of morning glimmer in the east, I will go over to the priest, And hear what the good man has to say! A Woman kneeling at the Confessional. THE PARISH PRIEST, from within. From the dominion of thy sin! Go, sin no more! He will restore The peace that filled thy heart before, And pardon thine iniquity! The Woman goes out. The Priest comes forth, and walks slowly up and down the church. O blessed Lord! how much I need Thy light to guide me on my way So many hands, that, without heed, Still touch thy wounds, and make them bleed! Still wander from thy fold astray! A pause. The day is drawing to its close; And what good deeds since first it rose, Have. I presented, Lord, to thee, As offerings of my ministry? What wrong repressed, what right maintained, What struggle passed, what victory gained, What good attempted and attained? Feeble, at best, is my endeavour! I see, but cannot reach, the height For thine own purpose, thou hast sent The strife and the discouragement! A pause. Why stayest thou, Prince of Hoheneck? Why keep me pacing to and fro Amid these aisles of sacred gloom, Counting my footsteps as I go, And marking with each step a tomb ? Why should the world for thee make room, And wait thy leisure and thy beck? Thou comest in the hope to hear Some word of comfort and of cheer. What can I say? I cannot give The counsel to do this and live; But rather, firmly to deny The tempter, though his power is strong, And, inaccessible to wrong, Still like a martyr live and die! A pause. The evening air grows dusk and brown ; To visit beds of pain and death, Of restless limbs, and quivering breath, And sorrowing hearts, and patient eyes That see, through tears, the sun go down, But never more shall see it rise. The poor in body and estate, The sick and the disconsolate, Must not on man's convenience wait. Goes out. Enter LUCIFER, as a Priest. LUCIFER, with a genuflexion, mocking. This is the Black Pater-noster. God was my foster, He fostered me Under the book of the Palm-tree! St. Michael was my dame. He was born at Bethlehem, To read upon yon sweet book Which the mighty God of heaven shook. Open, open, hell's gates! Shut, shut, heaven's gates! All the devils in the air The stronger be, that hear the Black Prayer! Looking round the church. What a darksome and dismal place! I wonder that any man has the face To call such a hole the House of the Lord, And the Gate of Heaven,-yet such is the word. Ceiling, and walls, and windows old, Covered with cobwebs, blackened with mould; Dust on the pulpit, dust on the stairs, Dust on the benches, and stalls, and chairs! The pulpit, from which such ponderous sermons Have fallen down on the brains of the Germans, With about as much real edification, As if a great Bible, bound in lead, Had fallen, and struck them on the head; And I ought to remember that sensation! But to me, the veriest Liquor Gehennæ! |