Poems — A Hymn for the Church Militant

Till at last, mayhap, hereon, Fused of passion and accord, Love its crown and peace its stay Rise the city of the Lord That we darkly build to-day.

A HYMN FOR THE CHURCH MILITANT

Great God, that bowest sky and star, Bow down our towering thoughts to thee, And grant us in a faltering war The firm feet of humility.

Lord, we that snatch the swords of flame, Lord, we that cry about Thy car.

We too are weak with pride and shame, We too are as our foemen are.

Yea, we are mad as they are mad, Yea, we are blind as they are blind, Yea, we are very sick and sad Who bring good news to all mankind.

The dreadful joy Thy Son has sent Is heavier than any care;

We find, as Cain his punishment, Our pardon more than we can bear.

Lord, when we cry Thee far and near And thunder through all lands unknown The gospel into every ear, Lord, let us not forget our own.