by Luis Dato
O Christ! it cannot that You will stand
With hand uplifted to a warring world
Fore’er unheeding, battle flags unfurled
In ceaseless combat deaf to Your command.
It cannot be that with Your Cross in hand
The armies to Your plea have challenged hurled.,
And angry ocean’s maelstrom was has curled
To emnity unto the outmost land.
It cannot be, it cannot be. What dream
More potent than Your light of Galilee,
What cannon melted, and what granite seem
Yet more compulsive ever land and sea?
Is man’s will then to Your own will supreme,
Must finity impugn Infinity?