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[First published in the Cornhill Magazine, July, 1860.]
SILENT, the Lord of the world | |
| Eyes from the heavenly height, | |
| Girt by his far-shining train, | |
| Us, who with banners unfurl’d | |
| Fight life’s many-chanc’d fight | 5 |
| Madly below, in the plain. | |
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| Then saith the Lord to his own:— | |
| ‘See ye the battle below? | |
| Turmoil of death and of birth! | |
| Too long let we them groan. | 10 |
| Haste, arise ye, and go; | |
| Carry my peace upon earth.’ | |
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| Gladly they rise at his call; | |
| Gladly they take his command; | |
| Gladly descend to the plain. | 15 |
| Alas! How few of them all— | |
| Those willing servants—shall stand | |
| In their Master’s presence again! | |
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| Some in the tumult are lost: | |
| Baffled, bewilder’d, they stray. | 20 |
| Some as prisoners draw breath. | |
| Others—the bravest—are cross’d, | |
| On the height of their bold-follow’d way, | |
| By the swift-rushing missile of Death. | |
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| Hardly, hardly shall one | 25 |
| Come, with countenance bright, | |
| O’er the cloud-wrapt, perilous plain: | |
| His Master’s errand well done, | |
| Safe through the smoke of the fight, | |
| Back to his Master again. | 30 |
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