LXXXVII.
Amidst the stillness rose my spirit’s cry,
Amidst the dead—“By that full cup of woe,
Press’d from the fruitage of mortality,
Saviour! for Thee—give light! that I may know
If by thy will, in thine all-healing name,
Men cast down human hearts to blighting shame,
And early death; and say, if this be so,
Where, then, is mercy? Whither shall we flee,
So unallied to hope, save by our hold on Thee?