Читать книгу Valeria, the Martyr of the Catacombs: A Tale of Early Christian Life in Rome - W. H. Withrow - Страница 5
THE CATACOMBS.
ОглавлениеBY HARRIET ANNIE WILKINS.
"Miles after miles of graves, and not one word or
sign of the gloominess or death."—Professor Jules De Launay.
Miles after miles of graves,
League after league of tombs,
And not one sign of spectre Death,
Waving his shadowy plumes;
Hope, beautiful and bright,
Spanning the arch above
Faith, gentle, overcoming Faith,
And Love, God's best gift, Love.
For early Christians left
Their darlings to their rest,
As mothers leave their little ones
When the sun gilds the west;
No mourning robes of black,
No crape upon the doors,
For the victorious palm-bearers,
Who tread the golden floors.
Arrayed in garments white,
No mournful dirges pealing,
Bearing green branches in their hands,
Around the tomb they're kneeling;
This was their marching song,
"By death we are not holden;"
And this their glorious funeral hymn,
"Jerusalem the golden."
Beautiful girls sleep there,
Waiting the Bridegroom's call.
Each lamp is burning brilliantly,
While the bright shadows fall;
And baby martyrs passed
Straight to the great I AM,
While sturdier soldiers carved o'er each,
"Victor, God's little lamb."
Miles after miles of graves,
League after league of tombs,
The cross upon each conqueror's brow
Light up the catacombs;
"'Tis in this sign we conquer."
Sounds on the blood-stained track;
"'Tis in this sign we conquer,"
We gladly answer back.
