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C. M.



Go, preach the gospel in my name,

Said he of Bethlehem:

Teach of a crown more glorious

Than earthly diadem.

Teach ye as I have taught, in love;

Be hate unthought, unspoken;

Bind up the bleeding heart, nor let

The bruised reed be broken.

If any scorn you for the truth

Which ye shall publish free,

Think of the lonely midnight hour

In dark Gethsemane:

Think of my prayers on Olivet,

My musings by the sea;

And though the heavy chain may bind,

That truth shall make you free.

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