Herman Melville

“ Wherein the Supper first was made
And Christ those words of parting said,
Those words of love by loved St. John ⁠55
So tenderly recorded. Ah,
They be above us like a star,
Those Paschal words.
But they descend ”

“ Our human nature, deep inurned
In voiceless visagelessness, yearned.
Behold, proud worm (if such can be) ,
What yet may come, yea, even to thee. ⁠10
Who knoweth? canst forecast the fate
In infinite ages? Probe thy state:
Sinless art thou? Then these sinned not.
These, these are men; and thou art--what? ”