The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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October 30
BY MANY WAYS |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
345
October 30 BY MANY WAYS
“God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in
time past, ... hath in these last days spoken unto us by his
Son.”—Heb. i. 1, 2.
Though vast and various
Be the paths Divine,
Whereby the moulding of the race is won;
No lives are larger than those which enshrine
Sorrow, that in vicarious
Deeds is done.
Here is the base, here are the blessèd sluices
Whence break new births and all the joyous juices
Of fresher forms, at inspiration's breath;
From the agony
Of each red Calvary,
The honeycomb out of the ribs of death.
Be the paths Divine,
Whereby the moulding of the race is won;
No lives are larger than those which enshrine
Sorrow, that in vicarious
Deeds is done.
Here is the base, here are the blessèd sluices
Whence break new births and all the joyous juices
Of fresher forms, at inspiration's breath;
From the agony
Of each red Calvary,
The honeycomb out of the ribs of death.
Pain is not penal,
Sufferings are no crimes
And nothing can be wrong that is not sin;
But only innocence may save sick times,
And show to natures venal
God their kin.
O by pure Passion, are our burdens lightened,
And all the darkling world is blessed and brightened;
The moral axis of the earth is changed;
Till the rose, Bliss,
Laughs out of the abyss
Which once kept caste and class so long estranged.
Sufferings are no crimes
And nothing can be wrong that is not sin;
But only innocence may save sick times,
And show to natures venal
God their kin.
O by pure Passion, are our burdens lightened,
And all the darkling world is blessed and brightened;
The moral axis of the earth is changed;
Till the rose, Bliss,
Laughs out of the abyss
Which once kept caste and class so long estranged.
The Prisoner of Love | ||