 | "Until the Day Break," |  |
243
LUTHER.
‘Dixi omnia cum hominem nominavi.”
—Pliny Ep. iv. 22.
—Pliny Ep. iv. 22.
In the strength of conscious weakness,
That leans on a strong man's arm,
No shrinking, no sinking of spirit,
No dread of defeat or harm:
He went to the battle bravely,
But he took no human sword,
And he donned no earthly armour;
'Twas the battle of the Lord.
That leans on a strong man's arm,
No shrinking, no sinking of spirit,
No dread of defeat or harm:
He went to the battle bravely,
But he took no human sword,
And he donned no earthly armour;
'Twas the battle of the Lord.
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In the joy of a glorious freedom,
In the peace of a pardon found,
In the light of a heavenly sunshine,
That had compassed him around;
In the life of the living Spirit,
In the power of a well-known love,
Went he forth on his mighty mission,
At the summons from above.
In the peace of a pardon found,
In the light of a heavenly sunshine,
That had compassed him around;
In the life of the living Spirit,
In the power of a well-known love,
Went he forth on his mighty mission,
At the summons from above.
All the heart of Europe was heaving,
Crushed out with enslaving lies;
She looked all around her in anguish;
He heard her bewildered cries,
The cries of the death-stricken nations,
Overshadowed with stifling night;
He opened the Book of blessing,
And the kingdoms owned its might.
Crushed out with enslaving lies;
She looked all around her in anguish;
He heard her bewildered cries,
The cries of the death-stricken nations,
Overshadowed with stifling night;
He opened the Book of blessing,
And the kingdoms owned its might.
245
He shook down the leaves of healing
From the boughs of Life's own tree,
Till their health, with its quickening gladness,
Went wide over earth and sea,
Went down the rejoicing ages,
Dissolving the bands of death,
Diffusing a fresh, strange sweetness,
With its soft celestial breath.
From the boughs of Life's own tree,
Till their health, with its quickening gladness,
Went wide over earth and sea,
Went down the rejoicing ages,
Dissolving the bands of death,
Diffusing a fresh, strange sweetness,
With its soft celestial breath.
From the banks of the turbid Tiber
He heard the imperious boasts;
But he faced the blustering terror
In the name of the Lord of hosts,
In the name of a trusted Captain
That had never lost a field,
And the spell of an ancient banner
That never was known to yield.
He heard the imperious boasts;
But he faced the blustering terror
In the name of the Lord of hosts,
In the name of a trusted Captain
That had never lost a field,
And the spell of an ancient banner
That never was known to yield.
246
Like the free and impatient war-horse,
That scenteth the battle afar,
And shaketh the ground with its pawings,
Went he forth to the unknown war.
He drew no sword from the scabbard,
No time-forged weapon he sought;
The spear, the sword, the helmet,
Were things which he needed not.
That scenteth the battle afar,
And shaketh the ground with its pawings,
Went he forth to the unknown war.
He drew no sword from the scabbard,
No time-forged weapon he sought;
The spear, the sword, the helmet,
Were things which he needed not.
He stood by the sea and touched it;
Its billows were cleft in twain,
He stood by the rock and smote it,
Till its waters flowed amain.
He stood with his rod uplifted
O'er the Amalek hosts below,
Till the song of the victor ascended
O'er the Church's flying foe.
Its billows were cleft in twain,
He stood by the rock and smote it,
Till its waters flowed amain.
He stood with his rod uplifted
O'er the Amalek hosts below,
Till the song of the victor ascended
O'er the Church's flying foe.
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His sling with stones from the brooklet
He fills as he moves along,
Alone in his deep-felt weakness,
Against the ten thousand strong.
A stripling in shepherd raiment,
He defies the Philistian band;
He comes, he sees, and he conquers,
For his own fair Fatherland.
He fills as he moves along,
Alone in his deep-felt weakness,
Against the ten thousand strong.
A stripling in shepherd raiment,
He defies the Philistian band;
He comes, he sees, and he conquers,
For his own fair Fatherland.
He heard the shouts of the foemen;
They were thousands, he but one;
The legions of Rome were advancing;
He stood there a lonely man.
The eternal volume clasping,
Heaven's rescript of life and death,
He spoke the delivering watchword,
That “the just shall live by faith.”
They were thousands, he but one;
The legions of Rome were advancing;
He stood there a lonely man.
The eternal volume clasping,
Heaven's rescript of life and death,
He spoke the delivering watchword,
That “the just shall live by faith.”
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He looketh around in silence;
All the eagle is in his eye;
Then aloud to the startled nations
He lifteth his voice on high.
'Tis the voice of a fellow-mortal,
Yet it comes from the Throne above;
And it brings to the sorrowful peoples
The bright news of celestial love.
All the eagle is in his eye;
Then aloud to the startled nations
He lifteth his voice on high.
'Tis the voice of a fellow-mortal,
Yet it comes from the Throne above;
And it brings to the sorrowful peoples
The bright news of celestial love.
What to him were the threats of princes,
Or the bribe of earthly gains?
What to him was the rising tempest,
Bursting down on his Saxon plains?
What to him was the Roman spectre,
That crossed and recrossed his path,
Or the drops from the mimic vials
Of the old destroyer's wrath?
Or the bribe of earthly gains?
What to him was the rising tempest,
Bursting down on his Saxon plains?
What to him was the Roman spectre,
That crossed and recrossed his path,
Or the drops from the mimic vials
Of the old destroyer's wrath?
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What to him was the seven-hilled city,
Or the priest with the triple crown
As he launched his envenomed curses
At the monk who had braved his frown?
What to him were the thunder-echoes
From the far-off Apennine,
The bolt of the Alpine lightning
Coming down on the tranquil Rhine?
Or the priest with the triple crown
As he launched his envenomed curses
At the monk who had braved his frown?
What to him were the thunder-echoes
From the far-off Apennine,
The bolt of the Alpine lightning
Coming down on the tranquil Rhine?
Brave herald of faith and freedom,
Apostle of ancient light,
Oh, speak to bewildered Europe
In these days of gathering night!
Sound out the immortal message,
Which of old her death-sleep woke;
And peal the far-echoing trumpet,
Which her Roman bondage broke.
Apostle of ancient light,
Oh, speak to bewildered Europe
In these days of gathering night!
Sound out the immortal message,
Which of old her death-sleep woke;
And peal the far-echoing trumpet,
Which her Roman bondage broke.
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Though dead, art thou not still speaking?
Have the ages wronged thy fame?
Do we read on these princely banners
But a Saxon miner's name?
Is thy grand soul-stirring story
But a dream of the cold, mute past?
Hast thou gone from earth for ever?
Are thy footprints clean effaced?
Have the ages wronged thy fame?
Do we read on these princely banners
But a Saxon miner's name?
Is thy grand soul-stirring story
But a dream of the cold, mute past?
Hast thou gone from earth for ever?
Are thy footprints clean effaced?
Is the spell of the mighty broken?
Has thy name but a myth become?
Has the strength of the strong man perished?
Is the voice of Luther dumb?
Has the touch which thou didst kindle
Passed away into hopeless gloom?
Is yon bust but a block of marble,
And yon grave but a vulgar tomb?
Has thy name but a myth become?
Has the strength of the strong man perished?
Is the voice of Luther dumb?
Has the touch which thou didst kindle
Passed away into hopeless gloom?
Is yon bust but a block of marble,
And yon grave but a vulgar tomb?
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Speak again to thine old Eisleben,
To thy Wittenberg once more;
Call aloud to the far-off millions
Beyond thy old German shore.
Let thy hand once more sweep over
All thine old harp's varied chords;
Let the nations to life awaken
At the power of thy thunder-words!
To thy Wittenberg once more;
Call aloud to the far-off millions
Beyond thy old German shore.
Let thy hand once more sweep over
All thine old harp's varied chords;
Let the nations to life awaken
At the power of thy thunder-words!
October, 1883.
| "Until the Day Break," | |