"Father!" the voice like music fell,
Clear as the murmuring flow
Of mountain streamlet trickling down
From heights of virgin snow.
"Father," it said, "since One must die,
Thy children to redeem
From worlds all formless now and void,
Where myriad life shall teem;
"And mighty Michael foremost fall
That mortal man may be;
And chosen Savior yet must send,
Lo, here am I-- send me!
I ask, I seek no recompense,
Save that which then were mine;
Mine be the willing sacrifice,
The endless glory Thine!"
No comments:
Post a Comment