THE MURDER OF BISHOP PATTESON

[ZaunköniG]

THE MURDER OF BISHOP PATTESON

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 !