Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/197

 To us stretching down his hands! Though a thousand mouths I had, Leave to ask, and to obtain, Never one of them should pray For his coming back again. O how wond'rous is God's way! By that sacrifice, so grievous, Won from bondage is my soul; He was given us but to leave us, Died to lure me to the goal. Thanks be to thee that thy hand Stoutly strove and firmly led— Ah, I saw thine own heart bled. Now it is for thee, instead, In the vale of choice to stand, Now for thee to hear the call Of the awful Nought or All.

Agnes, this is darkly said;— Vanquish'd, lo, our sorrow lies!

Thou forget'st the word of dread: Whoso sees Jehovah dies!

[Starts back.]

Woe upon me! What a light Thou has kindled! Never! No! I have stalwart hands for fight, And I will not let thee go! Tear all earthly ties from me, All possessions I will lose, Only never, never thee!