TO THE SAME.
TO THE SAME.
Songs of deliverance compassed thee about,
Long ere thy prison doors were backward flung:
When first thy heart to gentle thoughts was strung,
A song arose in heaven, an angel shout
For one delivered from the hideous rout,
That with defiance and fierce mutual hate
Do each the other’s griefs exasperate.
Thou, loving, from thy grief hadst taken out
Its worst—for who is captive or a slave
But He, who from that dungeon and foul grave,
His own dark soul, refuses to come forth
Into the light and liberty above?
Or whom may we call wretched on this earth
Save only him who has left off to love?
Long ere thy prison doors were backward flung:
When first thy heart to gentle thoughts was strung,
A song arose in heaven, an angel shout
For one delivered from the hideous rout,
That with defiance and fierce mutual hate
Do each the other’s griefs exasperate.
Thou, loving, from thy grief hadst taken out
Its worst—for who is captive or a slave
But He, who from that dungeon and foul grave,
His own dark soul, refuses to come forth
Into the light and liberty above?
Or whom may we call wretched on this earth
Save only him who has left off to love?