Methinks I heard beheaded Saints above

Methinks I heard beheaded Saints above Call to each other, Sirs, make room for LOVE, Who when he came to tread the fatal stage, (Which prov'd his glory, and his en'mies rage) (His blood ne'er run to's heart, Christ's blood was there, Reviving it: His own was all to spare; Which rising in his checks, did seem to say, Is this the blood you thirst for? Tak't I pray. Spectators in his looks such life did see, That they appear'd more like to die than he. Lightnings, which fill'd the air with blazing light, Did serve for torches at that dismal night; In which, and all next day, for many hours, Heav'n groan'd in thunder, and did weep in show'rs; Nor do I wonder that GOD thunder'd so, When's Boanerges murder'd lay below.