Rand and the Micmacs

by Jeremiah S. Clark

Thrills like a harp’s harmonious strings,

Defiance at the foe to fling;

That I may shout, exult and cry:

“Lend, lend your wings! I mount, I fly!”

“Oh! Death, where is thy victory?

Oh! Death, where is thy sting?”

My faith has triumphed over thee,

A conquered captive, not a king;

“Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are;