12.04.2012, 17:42
John Lawrence
These gifts thine India gave thee: curses fell,
The guile of all the East, the oath forsworn
In blood at eve that faith had voved at morn,
Thy life-work charred in all the flames of hell,
Thy kindness crowned with hate ineffable -
Yet of the welter 'neath thy touch were born
The might of God that guards the weak from scorn,
Mercy that flowers where'er the English dwell.
Thine were the Roman strength, the Roman will,
Calm 'mid the whole world's crash, the Roman soul
Where might and mercy hold their kingly tryst;
But the pure heart, the trust that thinks no ill,
The love that casts out self and seeks the Whole,
The shining faith, thou hadst of none but Christ.
These gifts thine India gave thee: curses fell,
The guile of all the East, the oath forsworn
In blood at eve that faith had voved at morn,
Thy life-work charred in all the flames of hell,
Thy kindness crowned with hate ineffable -
Yet of the welter 'neath thy touch were born
The might of God that guards the weak from scorn,
Mercy that flowers where'er the English dwell.
Thine were the Roman strength, the Roman will,
Calm 'mid the whole world's crash, the Roman soul
Where might and mercy hold their kingly tryst;
But the pure heart, the trust that thinks no ill,
The love that casts out self and seeks the Whole,
The shining faith, thou hadst of none but Christ.