Have ye given of your purple to cover,
Have ye given of your gold to cheer,
Have ye given of your love, as a lover
Might cherish the bride he held dear,
Broken the Sacrament-bread to feed
Souls and bodies in uttermost need?
XI.
Ye stand at the Judgment-bar to-day—
The Angels are counting the dead-roll, too;
Hare ye trod in the pure and perfect way,
And ruled for God as the crowned should do?
Count our dead—before Angels and Men,
Ye're judged and doomed by the Statist's pen.
THE FAITHLESS SHEPHERDS
"Os habent, et non loquuntur:
Oculos habent, et non vident."
