To Saul himself no interval there seemed; Instant, with his anathema, down smote That awful light on him, and straight to earth Prostrate as dead he fell, yet heard a Voice, Awful not less, speak twice his name, "Saul, Saul," And, "Wherefore dost thou persecute Me?" ask. Then further these deep searching words to him: "Hard findst it thou to kick against the pricks!" "Who art Thou, Lord?" came trembling forth from Saul, Whereby their brother yet alive those knew. "Jesus I am, Jesus of Nazareth, The crucified, whom thou dost persecute," They heard Messiah say, and thrilled with joy Of gratitude to feel afresh that He Suffered when any suffered for His sake, And bled in wounds that made His brethren bleed, Joining Himself to them, by fellowship Of passion, they in Him and He in them, The living members with the living Head Mysteriously incorporate in one. Thus a sweet thrill of grateful love to Him, Their Saviour, trembled in those heavenly breasts, While in suspense of balanced hope and fear-- The fear but such as made the hope more bliss-- They waited what their brother next would say. But in the prostrate man, at such reply, Felt from amidst that imminent light descend, "I Jesus am whom thou dost persecute," Thought following thought, a fleet succession, flew The boundless blank astonishment was brief Which, as with wing world-wide of hurricane, Shadowy, his mind bewildering overswept. 'Such power of splendor his, the Nazarene's! Jesus had launched that thunderbolt of light! The Lord of Glory then the crucified!' The momentary hurricane was past, But passing it had overturned the world.