His Blood on Us

The frenzied mob, ferocious, fearing nought, Pressed closer, shouting for the life they sought, And raised their voices in a mighty flood: “On us and on our children be His blood.” The scarlet stains, on that spike-studded cross Where hung the bleeding body, with each toss Of pain re-echoed that rebellious cry Until it reached beyond the vaulted sky. Soon streets ran red; and women, children, men Were slain with sword:  and through all time since then The rebel race has had its wish...