THE BOOK OF MARTYRS.
Read, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter;What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;How many times they bore The faithful witness, Till we are helped, As if a kingdom cared!
Read then of faith That shone above the fagot;Clear strains of hymn The river could not drown;Brave names of men And celestial women, Passed out of record Into renown!