The light within the sky was growing dim.
Death-white, a thorn-crowned face looked from a cross
And watched with dying eyes the soldiers toss
Dice for the seamless robe they stripped from Him;
And of that number there was one who first
Was touched with pity for Him hanging there,
And ran a sponge of vinegar to bear,
When in His anguish Jesus said: “I thirst!”
O nameless soldier of the long ago,
Yours was the doing of a deathless deed;
Who braved the people passing to and fro,
And gave to Christ the sponge upon a reed
The while His own disciples standing near,
Dismayed, moved not to help Him in their fear.