My Sun Has Set, I Dwell In Darkness As A Dead Man Out Of Sight; And None Remains, Not One, That I Should Tell To Him Mine Evil Plight This Bitter Night. I Will Make Fast My Door That Hollow Friends May Trouble Me No More. 'Friend, Open To Me.' - Who Is This That Calls? Nay, I Am Deaf As Are My Walls: Cease Crying, For I Will Not Hear Thy Cry Of Hope Or Fear. Others Were Dear, Others Forsook Me: What Art Thou Indeed That I Should Heed Thy Lamentable Need? Hungry Should Feed, Or Stranger Lodge Thee Here? 'Friend, My Feet Bleed. Open Thy Door To Me And Comfort Me.' I Will Not Open, Trouble Me No More. Go On Thy Way Footsore, I Will Not Rise And Open Unto Thee. 'Then Is It Nothing To Thee? Open, See Who Stands To Plead With Thee. Open, Lest I Should Pass Thee By, And Thou One Day Entreat My Face And Howl For Grace, And I Be Deaf As Thou Art Now. Open To Me.' Then I Cried Out Upon Him: Cease, Leave Me In Peace: Fear Not That I Should Crave Aught Thou Mayst Have. Leave Me In Peace, Yea Trouble Me No More, Lest I Arise And Chase Thee From My Door. What, Shall I Not Be Let Alone, That Thou Dost Vex Me Yet? But All Night Long That Voice Spake Urgently: 'Open To Me.' Still Harping In Mine Ears: 'Rise, Let Me In.' Pleading With Tears: 'Open To Me That I May Come To Thee.' While The Dew Dropped, While The Dark Hours Were Cold: 'My Feet Bleed, See My Face, See My Hands Bleed That Bring Thee Grace, My Heart Doth Bleed For Thee, Open To Me.' So Till The Break Of Day: Then Died Away That Voice, In Silence As Of Sorrow; Then Footsteps Echoing Like A Sigh Passed Me By, Lingering Footsteps Slow To Pass. On The Morrow I Saw Upon The Grass Each Footprint Marked In Blood, And On My Door The Mark Of Blood For Evermore.