Sursum Corda :: :: University of Virginia Library

Release at last—
The pain all overpast,
The weight of weary hours behind him cast
The calm, cold brow
No cares of empire bow;
No case so weighty he must wake for now.
The sentinel
May yield to this sleep's spell,
Nor yet betray the watch he kept so well.

Life upon the world is lain
Like an endless iron chain,
Borne of bondslaves in a row,
Which every man must undergo.

But the noble and the great
Lighten for the rest the weight;
While the selfish soul who shrinks
Leaves the massy galling links
Heavier for the rest to bear.
Terrible for him the share
On whose single strength the weight
Falleth of an empire's fate.
Yet more terrible for him
Who so long had faced the grim
Foeman Death; and in the stress
Of this struggle, none the less—
In the slowly deepening gloom
Of inevitable doom—
To added weight of empire bows
Calmly his dew-beaded brows.

At last release!
The battle now may cease.

No truce is this, but a triumphant peace.
Not his the spoils
For which in human broils
With bloody hands the mercenary toils.
Not his the prize
For which with tearless eyes,
Glorying in pain, the gladiator dies.

Crowns of which we dream not lie
Hid for all who nobly die.
Perish then the thought abhorred:
In bearing pain is pain's reward!
Think ye that the martyrs died
Just for death's sake, crucified,
Stoned, tormented, sawn in twain,
Who dared the ministers of pain
Do what worst they could devise?
Or think ye that your feasted eyes,
Fed on earth's good things, discern

Truth more clear than they who learn
By fiery trial; who have viewed
Heaven opened as they stood
At the stoning or the stake
Joyfully for Jesus' sake?

Emperor and friend,
Who didst thy post defend,
Watched by the world, yet blameless to the end!
Thy name, thy praise,
Shall live from these dark days,
A light to all who stumble in life's ways.