His praise remains unuttered, for his fire
Of glory burneth with o’ervivid flame;
The home that wronged him easier to blame,
Than toward his humblest merit to aspire.
This man for us descended, where God’s ire
Subdueth sin, once more toward heaven rose;
The gates that his Creator did not close,
A cruel city barred to his desire.
Ah ruthless mother, nurse of her own woe,
In measure as her sons are excellent,