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110
XXII. DEATH AND FREEDOM.
But ought I so to sorrow? How thy chains
At the death-angel's touch would fall away!
How for thee flame would flush life's waters grey!
How death, though life's hand lingers and refrains,
Would crash along thy fetters! how new plains
Of life in the first light of heaven's clear day
Would open out before thee; the long fray
Would then be over,—washed away its stains!
At the death-angel's touch would fall away!
How for thee flame would flush life's waters grey!
How death, though life's hand lingers and refrains,
Would crash along thy fetters! how new plains
Of life in the first light of heaven's clear day
Would open out before thee; the long fray
Would then be over,—washed away its stains!
Death's hand to thee will be the hand of love
Destroying every bolt and every chain;
Bursting the prison of thy life-long pain;
Descending wave-resistless from above:
Love's hand, God's voice saying, “Lo, thou art free!
Thou hast conquered self;—rejoice: thou art the sea!”
Destroying every bolt and every chain;
Bursting the prison of thy life-long pain;
Descending wave-resistless from above:
Love's hand, God's voice saying, “Lo, thou art free!
Thou hast conquered self;—rejoice: thou art the sea!”
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