A servant to the Lord. In vain I strove
To win her to the Prophet’s saving faith,
Using perhaps a rigour to that end
Beyond permitted means, and to my heart,
Which loved her dearer than its own life-blood,
Abhorrent. Silently she suffer’d all,
Or when I urged her with most vehemence,
Only replied, I knew her fix’d resolve,
And craved my patience but a little while
Till death should set her free. Touch’d as I was,