And grace to bless this dear, sweet home. What power
Would snatch you from us? make a very hell
Of what might else be heaven?—Think you ’tis love?
Not so; it only hates love; plays the part—
Not of the Christ who yielded up his life,
But of the world that made him yield it up;
It only trusts in force, in force that lies;
And now that it can hold you with a vow
Which but deceit could claim that God enjoin’d,
It seizes you to plunge you down, down, down,