Page:Felicia Hemans in The Amulet 1826.pdf/10



It pass'd not—tho' the stormy wave Had sunk beneath His tread; It pass'd not—tho' to Him the grave Had yielded up its dead. But there was sent Him, from on high, A gift of strength, for man to die!

And was His mortal hour beset With anguish and dismay? How may we meet our conflict yet In the dark, narrow way? How, but thro' Him, that path who trod?— Save, or we perish, Son of God!