Lord, why dost Thou not speak!" He writhed himself forward in a passion of expectant desire, hearing his muscles crack in the effort.

Once more he relaxed himself; and the swift play of wordless acts began which he knew to be the very heart of prayer.

The eyes of his soul flew hither and thither, from Calvary to heaven and back again to the tossing troubled earth.

He saw Christ dying of desolation while the earth rocked and groaned; Christ reigning as a priest upon His Throne in robes of light, Christ patient and inexorably silent within the Sacramental species; and to each in turn he directed the eyes of the Eternal Father....
Then he waited for communications, and they came, so soft and delicate, passing like shadows, that his will sweated blood and tears in the effort to catch and fix them and correspond....
He saw the Body Mystical in its agony, strained over the world as on a cross, silent with pain; he saw this and that nerve wrenched and twisted, till pain presented it to himself as under the guise of flashes of colour; he saw the life-blood drop by drop run down from His head and hands and feet.

The world was gathered mocking and good-humoured beneath.