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 Shall His stricken children find, Babes, that humbly understand, To have felt their Father's hand Gives them not a right to weep.— Seest thou now of tears a sign?

[Presses her to him a moment.]  Child, make light: that work is thine. [Smiles sadly.]  Thou thy greater Church shalt rear: Oh—but end ere Spring is here! [Goes.

Willing in her torments still, Willing at the martyr's stake; Flesh may flag and spirit break, But unbroken in her Will. Lord, to her poor strength add Thine;— Be the cruel task not mine At Thy bidding to unchain Angry vultures of the Law, Swift to swoop with ravening maw And her heart's warm blood to drain! I have strength to stand the strain. Twofold agony let me bear,— But be merciful to her!

''A knock at the outer door. enters.''

A beaten man, I seek your door.