Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/193

Rh Of darkness, and dawn's red brightening;

Hold, Lord God, hold,

Hold Thy hand lest we curse Thee and die."

The White Czar's people pray:

"Thou God of the South and the North,

We are crusht, we are bleeding;

'T is Christ, 't is Thy Son interceding;

Forth, Lord, come forth!

Bid the slayer no longer slay."

The White Czar's people call

Aloud to the skies of lead:

We are slaves, not freemen;

Ourselves, our children, our women—

Dead, we are dead,

Tho' we breathe, we are dead men all.

Blame not if we misprize Thee

Who can, but will not draw near.

'T is Thou who hast made us—

Not Thou, dread God, to upbraid us.

Hear, Lord God, hear!

Lest we whom Thou madest despise Thee."

PART II

Then answered the Most High God,

Lord of the heat and the cold,

Of storm and of lightning,

Of darkness, and dawn's red brightening:

"Bold, yea, too bold,

Whom I wrought from the air and the clod!

Hast thou forgotten from me

Are those ears so quick to hear