 | The Legend of St. Loy |  |
XXXV.
Chorus of Spirits.
Rise, ye children of the dust,
Heaven descends to aid the just;
Them nor storm, nor war shall harm,
Famine waste, nor demon charm;
With the stones in league—allied
With the forest beasts, they bide—
Privileged as Eden's grove,
Ere sin scathed the Bower of Love,
Shielded with the buckler broad
Of the almighty arm of God!
Trust in his Saint!—but, Spirits, list!
St. Loy himself!—your choral harps be wist!
Heaven descends to aid the just;
Them nor storm, nor war shall harm,
Famine waste, nor demon charm;
With the stones in league—allied
With the forest beasts, they bide—
Privileged as Eden's grove,
Ere sin scathed the Bower of Love,
Shielded with the buckler broad
Of the almighty arm of God!
Trust in his Saint!—but, Spirits, list!
St. Loy himself!—your choral harps be wist!
| The Legend of St. Loy | |