When far from home some noble martyr dies, We read his sacred story o'er and o'er; Like incense, drifting from a sacrifice, His name blows sweet from that disastrous shore, O'er the broad waters, to his native land; But, though our martyr'd saint has fallen asleep, And closed his ardent eyes, we need not weep; Unfoil'd the purpose of the Lord shall stand! His world-wide Church out-grows the powers of Hell, His holy Ark expands! O'er lands and seas The golden wings of Cherubim shall meet, Till all the tribes shall own one Mercy-seat: The school of faithful prophets shall not cease With him, who loved his hundred isles so well! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WEDDING BED IN MANGKUTANA by KAREN SWENSON WHITE AN' BLUE by WILLIAM BARNES A CRADLE SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE |