A voice, as of faint music o'er the din
Of tumult, whispers: “Who loveth brother more
Than me, or any loved one more than me,
Is all unworthy of me.” Quick, with ever
Conquering motions of the Spirit's power,
As winds of peace the passionate waters calm,
His sword is dropped, and, offering helpful hands,
He cries: “Thou who hast slain my brother be
As Christ doth will—a brother unto me.”
O'erwhelmed with gratitude, and filled with deep