Jehovah! Jehovah! art Thou not stronger than gods of the heathen?
I slew him, that Sisera, prince of the host Thou dost hate.
But fear of his blood is upon me, about me is breathen
His spirit—by day and by night come voices that wait.
I fly to the desert, I fly to the mountain—but they will not hide me.
His gods haunt the winds and the caves with vengeance that cries
For judgment upon me; the stars in their courses deride me—
The stars Thou hast hung with a breath in the wandering skies.
Jehovah! Jehovah! I slew him the scourge and sting of Thy Nation.
Take from me his spirit, take from me the voice of his blood.
With madness I rave—by day and by night, defamation!
Jehovah, release me! Jehovah! if still Thou art God!
[MARY AT NAZARETH]
I know, Lord, Thou hast sent Him—
Thou art so good to me!—
But Thou hast only lent Him,
His heart's for Thee!
I dared—Thy poor hand-maiden—
Not ask a prophet-child:
Only a boy-babe laden
For earth—and mild.
But this one Thou hast given
Seems not for earth—or me!
His lips flame truth from heaven,
And vanity
Seem all my thoughts and prayers
When He but speaks Thy Law;
Out of my heart the tares
Are torn by awe!