How shallow former shadows seem beside this great reverse as darkness swallows up the Light of all the universe: creation shivers at the shock, the Temple rends its veil, a pallid stillness stifles time, and nature's motions fail. This is no midday fantasy, no flight of fevered brain. With vengeance awful, grim, and real, chaos is come again: the hands that formed us from the soil are nailed upon the cross; the Word that gave us life and breath expires in utter loss. Yet deep within this darkness lives a Love so fierce and free that arcs all voids and--risk supreme!-- embraces agony. Its perfect testament is etched in iron, blood, and wood; with awe we glimpse its true import and dare to call it good.