 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
149
THE RELEASE.
“And when Herod would have brought him forth, and the same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains; and the keepers before the door kept the prison.”
Behold, amid the prison's gloom profound,
While Herod's guards the massive doors are keeping,
By soldiers watched, in iron fetters bound,
The man of God, serene and sweetly sleeping.
While Herod's guards the massive doors are keeping,
By soldiers watched, in iron fetters bound,
The man of God, serene and sweetly sleeping.
And thus the loved disciple of the Lord
Can sink to rest, defying pain and sorrow,
While persecution points the glittering sword
To mark him as her victim ere the morrow.
Can sink to rest, defying pain and sorrow,
While persecution points the glittering sword
To mark him as her victim ere the morrow.
For, what is there in death for him to fear,
Though he no more may see earth's morning breaking?
He feels 't is but salvation drawing near;
That Heaven's bright dawn shall follow his awaking!
Though he no more may see earth's morning breaking?
He feels 't is but salvation drawing near;
That Heaven's bright dawn shall follow his awaking!
But who is this, that suddenly appears,
With light effulgent round the prison beaming?
The captive feels his touch—awakes, and hears
A voice, whose sound hath more than earthly seeming!
With light effulgent round the prison beaming?
The captive feels his touch—awakes, and hears
A voice, whose sound hath more than earthly seeming!
150
“Rise! gird thyself, and bind thy sandals on,
And follow me without the yielding portals!
Thy chains are broken, and the power is gone,
That armed awhile these blind and erring mortals!”
And follow me without the yielding portals!
Thy chains are broken, and the power is gone,
That armed awhile these blind and erring mortals!”
It was thine angel, O! thou Holy One,
That hovered o'er thy servant in his slumber!
His labors in thy cause were not yet done—
His days of service had not gained their number.
That hovered o'er thy servant in his slumber!
His labors in thy cause were not yet done—
His days of service had not gained their number.
Like him, the man whose trust is fixed on thee
May ever rest, mid threatening foes and danger:
But where, O Lord, can hope or safety be,
For him, who treads life's path, to thee a stranger?
May ever rest, mid threatening foes and danger:
But where, O Lord, can hope or safety be,
For him, who treads life's path, to thee a stranger?
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |