God rears the sword.
With justice, not in vengeance, smites the Lord.
Whence came the steel? What forges wrought the brand?
Enough. It suits His hand.
Men die. Realms, nations, races rise sublime
To fall, forgot of men, in that grand scheme--
The Mind's despair, the Soul's prophetic dream,
The endless toil of Him Who knows not Time.
Why falls the blow? That people may be free
In deed and thought; to ward the stroke of Cain
That wounds the slayer deeper than the slain;
To cure some cankered wrong we cannot see.
God rears the sword.
In mercy, not in anger, smites the Lord.
