His Power

Wherein lay His strength?
His hands were as the hands of all men,
And his power as the power of all. men.
Wherein lay His strength?
Lo, He spake in a pallid voice,
Methinks tuned as a bird's note, yea, soft
As the chatter of early morning o'er nests.
Yea, or mystic soft as a nightingale's, slipping
Echolike from some secluded garden.
Yet His voice shaked the pit of the earth,
And the high places fell as from a mighty quake!
Wherein lay His strength?
In his hand was no sword.
Nay. He leaned upon a staff,
Which he raised not as a scepter,
Rather lending it unto the chiding,
Yet hosts fell before it!
Wherein lay His strength?
His not a victory! Nay,
He beheld His hands fall at their labor
Leaving the hillsides shepherdless,
Yet He moved before the hosts of ages
As a conqueror, exultant!
And no tomorrow shall stop
The resonance of His cry of Victory.