Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 34 1833.pdf/14



But many a martyrdom by hearts unshaken Is yet borne silently in homes obscure; And many a bitter cup is meekly taken; And, for the strength whereby the just and pure Thus stedfastly endure, Glory to Him whose victory won that dower, Him, from whose rising stream'd that robe of spirit power.

Glory to him! Hope to the suffering breast! Light to the nations! He hath roll'd away The mists, which, gathering into deathlike rest, Between the soul and heaven's calm ether lay— His love hath made it day With those that sat in darkness.—Earth and Sea! Lift up glad strains for Man by truth divine made free!