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My Sonnets

[by W. C. Bennett]

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LUTHER.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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LUTHER.

Not from the mighty of the earth, O Lord,
Dost Thou choose forth the doers of great deeds.
He who, writ in the fate of nations, reads
Thy wondrous will, he knows that Thou, O God,
Hast, from the lowliest by whom earth is trod,
Called men to rear on high, or shatter, creeds;
Hast raised men, from those whom the earth nought heeds,
To hurl to dust those who the world o'erawed.
No sceptred king, whose nothingness grows great,
Seen through the mist time-honoured custom flings
Around his form,—no thing of courts and state
Was he who humbled Rome's cowled Kings of Kings.
The monk went forth—his arms, Thy Word:—Before
Those gods of earth the nations bowed no more.
March 30th, 1842.