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Poem by Paul Hamilton Hayne

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ALONG the path thy bleeding feet have trod,
O Christian Mother! do the martyr-years,
Crownèd with suffering through the mist of tears
Uplift their brows, thorn-circled, unto God;
Most bitterly our Father's chastening rod
Hath ruled within thy term of mortal days,
Yet in thy soul spring up the tones of praise,
Freely as flowers from out a burial-sod:
Nor hath a tireless faith essayed in vain
To win from sorrow that diviner rest,
Which, like a sunset, purpling through the rain
Of dying storms, maketh the darkness blest;
Grief is transfigured, and dethronèd Fears,
Pale in the glory beckoning from the West.

Paul Hamilton Hayne

Paul Hamilton Hayne's other poems:
  1. A Christmas Lyric
  2. O God! What Glorious Seasons Bless Thy World!
  3. A Lyrical Picture
  4. A Phantom in the Clouds
  5. УThe Old Man of the SeaФ

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