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O Thou! at whose rebuke the grave
     Back to warm life its sleeper gave,
Beneath whose sad and tearful glance
     The cold and changed countenance
Broke the still horror of its trance,
     And, waking, saw with joy above,
A brother's face of tenderest love;
     Thou, unto whom the blind and lame,
The sorrowing and the sin-sick came,
     And from Thy very garment's hem
Drew life and healing unto them,
     The burden of Thy holy faith
Was love and life, not hate and death;
     Man's demon ministers of pain,
The fiends of his revenge, were sent
     From thy pure Gospel's element
To their dark home again.
     Thy name is Love! What, then, is he, [288]
Who in that name the gallows rears,
     An awful altar built to Thee,
With sacrifice of blood and tears?
     Oh, once again Thy healing lay
On the blind eyes which knew Thee not,
     And let the light of Thy pure day
Melt in upon his darkened thought.
     Soften his hard, cold heart, and show
The power which in forbearance lies,
     And let him feel that mercy now
Is better than old sacrifice!

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