Then, whence this heritage of hate’s foul orisons?
“I am no hound, God’s Lion am I. God I love.
I’m ‘Lion of the Truth.’ Mere form I aye reprove.”245
A lion of the world may hunt for prey and spoil.
A lion of eternity, death’s freedom from turmoil.
In death he sees a hundred thousand modes of life.
So, mothlike, death he courts; his candle, murderer’s knife.
To court grim death’s a collar round the true man’s neck.
This was the text proposed, that wrought recusant’s wreck.
God’s word revealed hath said: “O men of human race!