it would have been sufficient to have made his plans clear

And he knelt a-weeping in that holy place.

Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

The Drunkards in the street are calling one another,

Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, --

While the Spirit bloweth Space and Time away.

Why should I feel the sobbing, the secrecy, the glory,

This comforter, this fitful wind divine?

I the cautious Pharisee, the scribe, the whited sepulchre --