‘DUST TO DUST.’
Oh blessing wearing semblance of a curse,
We fear thee, thou stern sentence—yet to be
Linked to immortal bodies were far worse
Than thus to be set free.
For mingling with the life-blood through each vein
The poison of the serpent's bite has run,
And only thus might be expelled again—
Thus only health be won.
Shall we not then a gracious sentence own,
Now since the leprosy has fretted through
The entire house, that Thou wilt take it down,
And build it all anew?
Build it this time (since Thou wilt build again),
A holy house, where righteousness may dwell;
And we, though in the unbuilding there be pain,
Will still affirm,—'tis well.
