 | Women must weep |  |
195
GOD IS KING.
God is King—albeit the globe
Walks along a twilight way,
And the fringe of woman's robe
Sullied is with miry clay;
Though the watching brow is worn,
And her heart hath never rest,
While the bitter earthly thorn
Pierceth yet her human breast;
Though the clog of brutal bans,
Curbs her soaring angel-wing,
And the sceptre seemeth man's—
God is King.
Walks along a twilight way,
And the fringe of woman's robe
Sullied is with miry clay;
Though the watching brow is worn,
And her heart hath never rest,
While the bitter earthly thorn
Pierceth yet her human breast;
Though the clog of brutal bans,
Curbs her soaring angel-wing,
And the sceptre seemeth man's—
God is King.
God is King—albeit the head
Of our sister bendeth low,
And the ashes thick are spread
On her tresses' heavenly glow;
Though the sackcloth to her cleaves,
Where the bridal beauty shone,
As the autumn to the leaves
That are dead, and yet hang on;
Though her footsteps totter down
To the gulfs that shadows fling,
And usurpers wear the crown—
God is King.
Of our sister bendeth low,
And the ashes thick are spread
On her tresses' heavenly glow;
Though the sackcloth to her cleaves,
Where the bridal beauty shone,
As the autumn to the leaves
That are dead, and yet hang on;
Though her footsteps totter down
To the gulfs that shadows fling,
And usurpers wear the crown—
God is King.
God is King—albeit the hand,
Meant in myriad paths to bless,
Bound if by a golden band,
May not conquer to caress—
May not scatter, as it ought,
Love's divine and fruitful seed,
Carrying out the glorious thought
Into still more glorious deed;
Though the joyous maiden tone
Now hath lost its queenly ring,
And another fills His throne—
God is King.
Meant in myriad paths to bless,
Bound if by a golden band,
May not conquer to caress—
May not scatter, as it ought,
Love's divine and fruitful seed,
Carrying out the glorious thought
Into still more glorious deed;
Though the joyous maiden tone
Now hath lost its queenly ring,
And another fills His throne—
God is King.
196
God is King—albeit the looks
Of the daughters He hath framed,
To delight as sacred books,
By His fallen sons are shamed;
Though the Devil planteth lust
Even in fair forbidden ground,
Palaced above temples' dust,
In the holiest holy found;
Though man, more than Devil, wreak
Wrath on God's most precious thing,
And His children's breasts are weak—
God is King.
Of the daughters He hath framed,
To delight as sacred books,
By His fallen sons are shamed;
Though the Devil planteth lust
Even in fair forbidden ground,
Palaced above temples' dust,
In the holiest holy found;
Though man, more than Devil, wreak
Wrath on God's most precious thing,
And His children's breasts are weak—
God is King.
| Women must weep | |