 | The Finding of The Book and Other Poems |  |
I
Rise up, Lord,And let Thine enemies be scattered,
And let them that hate Thee flee before Thee!
As the dispersion of smoke-drift,
Thou wilt disperse them abroad;
As the wax in its weakness melts off
From before the face of the fire,
So our foes—the unrighteous—shall perish
From before the Face of our God,
But the just shall exult and be glad.
| The Finding of The Book and Other Poems | |