A DEAD Soul lay in the light of day, Desperate, wan, it had passed; Oft foiled, it had toiled on its upward way, Till it perished, spent, aghast, After a thousand defeats the prey Of its conquering sin at last. Said a stranger: -- "Lo, how in shame and woe Is Satan's seal ever set!" Laughed a foe: -- "Doth the carrion lie so low? Death and a coward well met." Said a friend: -- "His strength was great, I know, But his weakness was stronger yet." Moaned his love unwed: -- "Peace to the dead; And as God shall forgive -- let be!" But an angel spread o'er the prostrate head His wings in humility; As he gazed: -- "Be praised, great God," he said, "For a glorious victory!" |