SACRIFICE
How long, O Lord, wilt Thou Thy secret keep
From us, who, groping up the cruel steep
Of darkened bitter years
Still cry to Thee for light before we sleep?
Is it a war Thou wagest with some foe
Beyond the power of mortal mind to know,
And in Thy lonelier night
Art Thou too toiling as we toil below?
I dream that in Thy hidden battle-world
Hang solemn bannered gleams of Hope unfurled—
And, slaying Death and Sin
Men's souls, like quivering piteous spears are hurled.
If dreams be true, then may Thy will be done
In me, who of that endless army one
Now give one life the more:
Use it, O Lord, before my course be run.
Take up my loving will, yea lift this blade
Of trembling steel which in Thy forge was made—
Fling it on Sin and Death:—
Though broken, lost, I shall not be afraid.
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