Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/75

74 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.