PAUL
Bond-slave to Christ, and in my bonds rejoicing,
Earmarked to Him I counted less than nought;
His man henceforward, eager to be voicing
That wondrous Love which Saul the Roman sought.
Sought him and found him, working bitter sorrow;
Found him and claimed him, chose him for his own;
Bound him in darkness, till the glorious morrow
Unsealed his eyes to that he had not known.
WAKENING
This mortal dies,—
But, in the moment when the light fails here,
The darkness opens, and the vision clear
Breaks on his eyes.
The vail is rent,—
On his enraptured gaze heaven's glory breaks,
He was asleep, and in that moment wakes.
MACEDONIA, 1903
Devils' work!
Devils' work, my masters!
Britain, your hands are red!
You may close your heart, but you cannot shirk
This terrible fact,—We—kept—the—Turk.
His day was past and we knew his work,
But he played our game, so we kept the Turk,
For our own sake's sake we kept the Turk.
Britain, your hands are red!
Red are the walls and the ways, And—Britain, your hands are red! There is blood on the hearth, and blood in the well, And the whole fair land is a red, red hell,— Britain, your hands are red!
"Come over! Come over and help us!" We are deaf to the ancient cry. —"For the sake of our women and children!" And Britain stands quietly by. O Britain, your hands are red!
Cleanse your hands, Britain! Yea, cleanse them in blood if it must be! For blood that is shed in the cause of right Has power, as of old, to wash souls white. Cleanse your hands, Britain!