To a poor martyr perisht in the flame
Lo suddenly the cool and calm of Heaven,
And One who gently touch’d and tended, came.
‘For thee, O Lord,’ he cried, ‘my life was given.’
When thus the Pitiful One: ‘O suffering man,
I taught thee not to die, but how to live;
But ye have wrongly read the simple plan,
And turn to strife the Heav’nly gift I give.
I taught the faith of works, the prayer of deeds,
The sacrament of love. I gave, not awe,