Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/75

Retaliation's poison, when the smile
Of Heaven doth win him to the deeds of love?
Speak! servants of that Blessed One who gave
The glorious precept "love your enemies,"
Is it enough that ye should love your friends,
Even as the heathen do?
                                           Is He who bore
The flight of friendship, the denial vow
Of coward love—the Pharisaic taunt—
Judea's maddened scourge—the Roman spear—
A world's offences, and the pang of death—
Is He your Master, if ye only walk
As Nature prompts?
                                   If the love-beaming eye
Drink fond return reciprocal, the lip
That pours your praise, partake your sympathy
When sorrow blanches it, the liberal hand
Win by its gifts your meed of gratitude,
What do ye more than others? But on him
Whose frown of settled hatred mars your rest,
Who to the bosom of your fame doth strike
A serpent-sting, your kindest deeds requite
With treachery, and o'er your motives cast
The mist of prejudice; say, can you look
With the meek smile of patient tenderness,
And from the deep pavilion of your soul
Send up the prayer of blessing?
                                                    God of strength!
Be merciful! and when we duly kneel
Beside our pillow of repose, and say
"Forgive us, Father, even as we forgive,"
Grant that the murmured vision seal not
Our condemnation.