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168
THE HOSPITAL
A thing too dread to bear,
I knew that it was there.
And, my warm blood grown cold,
An icy breathing horror stirred my hair.
With pain-shut eyes I lay,
Wishing yet dreading day
That with strange pangs untold
Should come, my frame to rack in a new way,
And powerless to free
Myself, despairingly,
"From the body of this death,"
I moaned, "Who shall deliver me?"
Then, all my pulses stirred,
Awed and amazed, I heard—
Uttered with calming breath
Distinct and clear, apart from me—a word,
In far Judæa taught,
That instant freedom brought,—
Winging my soul's escape
Through the blest miracle of heavenly thought.
