Page:Poems Larcom.djvu/171

Glory to Thee! we say, with shuddering wonder,
      While a hushed land
Hears the stern lesson syllabled in thunder,
      That Truth is grand
As life must be; that neither man nor nation
      May soil thy throne
With a soul's life-blood—horrible oblation!—
      Nor quick be shown
That thou wilt not be mocked by prayer whose nurses
      Were Hate and Wrong;
That trees so vile must drop back fruit in curses
      Bitter and strong.

Glory to Thee, who wilt not let us smother
      Ourselves in sin;
Sending Pain's messengers fast on each other
      Us thence to win!
Praise for the scourging under which we languish,
      So torn, so sore!
And save us strength, if yet uncleansed by anguish,
      To welcome more.
Life were not life to us, could they be fables,—
      Justice and Right:
Scathe crime with lightning, till we see the tables
      Of Law burn bright!