POETRY.
THE MARTYR.
GAZE into my heart, 0 God,
Into this heart that is full of worship for Thee ; I have no fear, for I know that Thou wilt see The ways of light I trod.
The wicked and guilty all Fear the words that fall from my lips, inspired from above Out of Thy boundless Wisdom, Thy wondrous Love ; But they will not hear Thy Call.
To death they hasten me now, But they cannot break the spirit that leans on Thee ; From the bonds of earth, from the chains of flesh, I am free ; Only to Thee I bow.
The unbelievers roar, Maddened with hate, and sweep on to behold my death. Forgive them, 0 Father, I cry with my dying breath, As nearer to Thee I draw.
For the love of Thy Son Who went Through this world of men for whose sins lie suffered and died, Receive my soul, and place me near Thy side,
So I may die content.
MARIS JOHNS.
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