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HYMN BEFORE ACTION.
The earth is full of anger,
The seas are dark with wrath; The Nations in their harness
Go up against our path! Ere yet we loose the legions
Ere yet we draw the blade, Jehovah of the Thunders,
Lord God of Battles, aid!
High lust and froward bearing,
Proud heart, rebellious browDeaf ear and soul uncaring,
We seek Thy mercy now: The sinner that forswore Thee,
The fool that passed Thee by, Our times are known before Thee
Lord, grant us strength to die!
For those who kneel beside us
At altars not Thine own,
Lord, let their faith atone;
By honour bound they came;
But deal to us the blame.
From panic, pride, and terror,
Revenge that knows no rein-
Protect us yet again.
Make firm the shuddering breath, In silence and unswerving
To taste thy lesser death!
Ah, Mary pierced with sorrow,
Remember, reach and save The soul that comes to-morrow
Before the God that gave!
For each at utter need-
E’en now their vanguard gathers,
E'en now we face the frayAs Thou didst help our fathers,
Help Thou our host to-day! Fulfilled of signs and wonders,
In life, in death made clearJehovah of the Thunders,
Lord God of Battles, hear!
TO THE TRUE ROMANCE.
(From Many Inventions.) Thy face is far from this our war,
Our call and counter-cry, I shall not find Thee quick and kind,
Nor know Thee till I die : Enough for me in dreams to see
And touch Thy garments' hem : Thy feet have trod so near to God
I may not follow them.
Through wantonness if men profess
They weary of Thy parts,
And perish with their arts;
Thine excellence august,
Thee perfect, wise, and just.
Since spoken word Man's Spirit stirred
Beyond his belly-need, What is is Thine of fair design
In thought and craft and deed;
Each stroke aright of toil and fight,
That was and that shall be,
Has birth and worth in Thee.
Who holds by Thee hath Heaven in fee
To gild his dross thereby,
A child until he die-
Is but new Beauty's birth-
The joy of all the earth.
As Thou didst teach all lovers speech,
And Life all mystery,
Till love and longing die,
A whisper in the Void,
When this is clean destroyed.
Beyond the bounds our staring rounds,
Across the pressing dark,
Look hitherward and mark