Page:The Christian Year 1887.djvu/137

 Amazed they cry, "What spell is this, Which turns their sufferings all to bliss?

"How are they free whom we had bound?  Upright, whom in the gulf we cast? What wondrous helper have they found   To screen them from the scorching blast? Three were they—who hath made them four? And sure a form divine he wore,

"E'en like the Son of God." So cried The Tyrant, when in one fierce flame The Martyrs lived, the murderers died: Yet knew he not what angel came To make the rushing fire-flood seem Like summer breeze by woodland stream.

He knew not, but there are who know: The Matron, who alone hath stood, When not a prop seemed left below, The first lorn hour of widowhood, Yet cheered and cheering all, the while, With sad but unaffected smile; -

The Father, who his vigil keeps By the sad couch whence hope hath flown, Watching the eye where reason sleeps, Yet in his heart can mercy own, Still sweetly yielding to the rod, Still loving man, still thanking GOD; -

The Christian Pastor, bowed to earth With thankless toil, and vile esteemed, Still travailing in second birth Of souls that will not be redeemed: Yet stedfast set to do his part, And fearing most his own vain heart; -

These know: on these look long and well, Cleansing thy sight by prayer and faith, And thou shalt know what secret spell Preserves them in their living death: Through sevenfold flames thine eye shall see The Saviour walking with His faithful Three.