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Poems and Translations

by W. J. Linton

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32

LOVE'S SERVICE.

Hast thou no pity, Love! for thy poor thralls?
No ruth for all the sorrow that befalls
Thy hapless servitors? Even so I pray'd
To Him, the lord of earth and sea and air;
And he my foolish prayer
Deign'd answer, and thus said:
“I have no pity. Whoso serve me ask
Nor wages nor reward; but of their task
Make their delight—the joy divine of pain,
Sometimes,—but none the less it is delight.
In their great grief's despite,
Sufficient is their gain.”
I am not worthy, Love! to claim a place
In thy close sanctuary; but of thy grace
Admit me to the outer courts, and so
In time that inner worship I may learn,
And on thy altar burn
The Sacrifice of Woe!