Poems (Dickinson)/The Book of Martyrs

by Emily Dickinson

For works with similar titles, see The Book of Martyrs.

For other versions of this work, see Read—Sweet—how others—strove—.

XVIII.

THE BOOK OF MARTYRS.

Read, sweet, how others strove,
Till we are stouter;
What they renounced,
Till we are less afraid;
How many times they bore
The faithful witness,
Till we are helped,
As if a kingdom cared!

Read then of faith
That shone above the fagot;
Clear strains of hymn
The river could not drown;
Brave names of men
And celestial women,
Passed out of record
Into renown!