 | Poems (1867) |  |
366
A SONG WHICH NONE BUT THE REDEEMED CAN SING.
We came not in with broad
Full canvas swelling to a steady breeze,
With pennons flying fair, with coffers stored;
For long against the wind, 'mid heavy seas,
With cordage strained and splintered masts, we drave;
And o'er our decks had dashed the bitter wave,
And lightening oft our lading, life to save,
Our costly ventures to the Deep were given.
Yea! some of us were caught, and homewards driven
Upon the storm-wind's wings, and some rock-riven
Among the treacherous reefs at anchor flung,
Felt the good ship break under them, and clung
Still to some plank or fragment of its frame
Amid the roaring breakers—Yet we came.
Full canvas swelling to a steady breeze,
With pennons flying fair, with coffers stored;
For long against the wind, 'mid heavy seas,
With cordage strained and splintered masts, we drave;
And o'er our decks had dashed the bitter wave,
And lightening oft our lading, life to save,
Our costly ventures to the Deep were given.
Yea! some of us were caught, and homewards driven
Upon the storm-wind's wings, and some rock-riven
Among the treacherous reefs at anchor flung,
Felt the good ship break under them, and clung
Still to some plank or fragment of its frame
Amid the roaring breakers—Yet we came.
367
We came not in with proud,
Firm, martial footstep in a measured tread
Slow pacing to the crash of music loud;
No gorgeous trophies went before, no crowd
Of captives followed us with drooping head,
No shining laurel sceptred us, nor crowned,
Nor with its leaf our glittering lances bound;
This looks not like a Triumph, then they said.
With faces darkened in the battle flame,
With banners faded from their early pride,
Through wind, and sun, and showers of bleaching rain,
Yet red in all our garments, doubly dyed,
With many a wound upon us, many a stain,
We came with steps that faltered—Yet we came!
Firm, martial footstep in a measured tread
Slow pacing to the crash of music loud;
No gorgeous trophies went before, no crowd
Of captives followed us with drooping head,
No shining laurel sceptred us, nor crowned,
Nor with its leaf our glittering lances bound;
This looks not like a Triumph, then they said.
With faces darkened in the battle flame,
With banners faded from their early pride,
Through wind, and sun, and showers of bleaching rain,
Yet red in all our garments, doubly dyed,
With many a wound upon us, many a stain,
We came with steps that faltered—Yet we came!
Through water and through fire
We came to Thee, and not through these alone,
We came to Thee by blood! Thou didst require
One only sacrifice, and like Thine Own,
The life Thou gavest us Thou didst desire,
And all was ready for us! Lo, the knife
And cloven wood were waiting; bound or free
We too were ready! In the battle strife
Or by the lonely altar, unto Thee
We offered love for love, and life for life;
Through swords, through seas, o'er sands of burning flame
We came to Thee! through toil and pain and loss;
Yea! all things failed us but the steadfast cross,
And hearts that clave to it while grief and shame
Still followed where we followed—Yet we came!
We came to Thee, and not through these alone,
We came to Thee by blood! Thou didst require
One only sacrifice, and like Thine Own,
The life Thou gavest us Thou didst desire,
And all was ready for us! Lo, the knife
And cloven wood were waiting; bound or free
We too were ready! In the battle strife
368
We offered love for love, and life for life;
Through swords, through seas, o'er sands of burning flame
We came to Thee! through toil and pain and loss;
Yea! all things failed us but the steadfast cross,
And hearts that clave to it while grief and shame
Still followed where we followed—Yet we came!
| Poems (1867) | |