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Memorials of Theophilus Trinal, Student

By Thomas T. Lynch. Third Edition, Enlarged
  

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THE SCRIBE.
  
  
  
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250

THE SCRIBE.

What, Scribe! darest thou to write
“God is love” upon the wall—
Thou, for truth, who wilt not fight
Even at Love's saddest call?
Scribe, thou hast in that brief line
Written the doom of thee and thine.
At thy neighbour thou dost cry
“Heretic!” with pucker'd brow;
“God is love” then smilingly
On the plaster writest thou.
Scribe, thou hast in that brief line
Written the doom of thee and thine.
Hast thou sap within thy roots,
Though thy branch is sere and dry?
“God is love”—the verdant shoots
That thou callest heresy,
On thyself, O Scribe, shall shine;
Happy doom for thee and thine!

251

Art thou full of sapless death?
“God is love”—when He hath found,
Vain for thee his gentlest breath,
He will pluck thee from the ground;
Through thy wood his fire shall shine,
Woeful doom for thee and thine!