 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
EPILOGUE.
[God, whom my spirit crowns the King]
God, whom my spirit crowns the King,
Whom it delights to serve,
Refulgent on the insect's wing,
As in the rose's curve;
To one has given a glorious thought,
That bridges heaven and earth,
And brightens with a grace unbought
The breast of homeless dearth;
To one a song, the solemn part
Of some eternal chord,
That echoes on in every heart;
To me, a sword.
Whom it delights to serve,
Refulgent on the insect's wing,
As in the rose's curve;
To one has given a glorious thought,
That bridges heaven and earth,
And brightens with a grace unbought
The breast of homeless dearth;
To one a song, the solemn part
Of some eternal chord,
That echoes on in every heart;
To me, a sword.
God girded it with thongs of flame
On this unequal side,
And whispered to me the dread Name
At which the tempests hide;
He breathed into this bosom fire,
From altars of His love,
With wings of infinite desire,
Trembling to Him above;
He bade me never sheathe the blade
Till sin confest Him Lord,
And fallen had ills that curse the shade
Under the sword.
On this unequal side,
And whispered to me the dread Name
At which the tempests hide;
He breathed into this bosom fire,
From altars of His love,
With wings of infinite desire,
Trembling to Him above;
He bade me never sheathe the blade
Till sin confest Him Lord,
And fallen had ills that curse the shade
Under the sword.
God drew it first, and sacred set
Its lightning in my hand,
With tears of child and woman wet,
And blood of prison band;
He bade me all its terrors beat
On vices veiled and hoar,
If sceptred in a royal seat,
Or in a people's roar;
To heed no odds, nor pity rank
That 'scaped the hangman's cord,
And fight till each injustice sank
Under the sword.
Its lightning in my hand,
With tears of child and woman wet,
And blood of prison band;
He bade me all its terrors beat
On vices veiled and hoar,
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Or in a people's roar;
To heed no odds, nor pity rank
That 'scaped the hangman's cord,
And fight till each injustice sank
Under the sword.
God held my hand, and blesséd made
The blow at tyrants hurl'd,
That was almighty when He bade,
Though one against a world;
And it has ever been its wont,
To wave at duty's call
For sufferers, flashing in the front,
Where lusts and liars fall;
But face I could not foemen massed,
Nor those wild torrents ford,
Till I myself had died, and passed
Under the sword.
The blow at tyrants hurl'd,
That was almighty when He bade,
Though one against a world;
And it has ever been its wont,
To wave at duty's call
For sufferers, flashing in the front,
Where lusts and liars fall;
But face I could not foemen massed,
Nor those wild torrents ford,
Till I myself had died, and passed
Under the sword.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |