I felt terror, no surprise:
My mind filled with the cataract,
At one bound, of the mighty fact.
I remembered, He did say
Doubtless, that, to this world's end,
Where two or three should meet and pray,
He would be in the midst, their friend:
Certainly He was there with them.
And my pulses leaped for joy
Of the golden thought without alloy,
That I saw His very vesture's hem.
Then rushed the blood back, cold and clear,
With a fresh enhancing shiver of fear."
Praying for forgiveness wherein he has sinned, and prostrate in
adoration before the form of Christ, he is "caught up in the whirl and
drift" of his vesture, and carried along with him over the earth.
Stopping at length at the entrance of St. Peter's in Rome, he remains
outside, while the form disappears within. He is able, however, to see
all that goes on, in the crowded, hushed interior. It is high mass. He
has been carried at once from the little chapel to the opposite
aesthetic pole. From the entry, where--
"The flame of the single tallow candle
In the cracked square lanthorn I stood under
Shot its blue lip at me,"
to--
"This miraculous dome of God--
This colonnade
With arms wide open to embrace
The entry of the human race
To the breast of.
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