de profundis

Carts go along the streets; full of stript human corpses, thrown pell-mell; limbs sticking up: --seest thou that cold Hand sticking up, through the heaped embrace of brother corpses, in its yellow paleness, in its cold rigor; the palm opened towards Heaven, as if in dumb prayer, in expostulation de profundis, Take pity on the Sons of Men !