 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
275
CHURCH-DIVIDINGS.
O Freedom's very heart, her hearth, and home,England! resist with vigour as of old
This pestilent miasma bred at Rome,
This inward cancer to the Church and State
Into thy vitals creeping quick and cold:
Let not a cunning foe's malignant hate
Triumph in thy dividings: bear, forbear;
Win back those sheep, half-wandering from thy fold,
And lead them with The Shepherd's tender care!
For some be generous souls, athirst for truth,
And Truth's high heralds count but scant and rare,—
And soberness is frost to their hot youth,—
And so they shun our Church: but soon, goodsooth,
Gladly for Christ will turn to find Him there!
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |