Quicksand
Plead in vain, and proudly answered:
“All of self and none of Thee,
All of self and none of Thee.”
Yet He found me, I beheld Him,
Bleeding on the cursed tree;
Heard Him pray: “Forgive them, Father.”
And my wistful heart said faintly,
“Some of self and some of Thee,
Some of self and some of Thee.”
There were, it appeared, endless moaning verses. Behind Helga a woman had begun to cry audibly, and soon, somewhere else, another. Outside, the wind still bellowed. The wailing singing went on:
. . .Less of self and more of Thee,
Less of self and more of Thee.
Helga too began to weep, at first silently, softly; then with great racking sobs. Her nerves were so torn, so aching, her body so wet, so cold! It was a relief to cry unre-
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