Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ELECTOR OF SAXONY AT AUGSBURG, by MARY CASS CANFIELD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ELECTOR OF SAXONY AT AUGSBURG, by                    
First Line: The first faint light of early day
Last Line: Engraved with heaven's own light!
Alternate Author Name(s): C.; Mulme, Mary Cass
Subject(s): Christianity


THE first faint light of early day
Rested on vale and hill,
Touch'd the old towers and turrets gray,
But Augsburg slumber'd still.
Its silent streets gave back no sound,
Save some lone passer's tread,
Some peasant to his labour bound,
Some watcher o'er the dead.
Courtier and prince in deep repose
Forgot each toil and care,
Yet from one quiet chamber rose
The voice of early prayer.
His princely robes aside were thrown,
His sword unsheathed lay,
Where an old warrior bent him down
In solitude to pray.
The long, thin locks of hoary years
Hung round his noble brow,
While from his aged eyes the tears
Fell all unheeded now.
Not for his threaten'd state and crown
Did they in silence flow,
No selfish fear that spirit bound
Of royal, crafty foe.
'T was for the holy ark of God
He wept and wrestled there,
Beseeching that his gracious Lord
Would guard it from each snare.
The rosy light fell on his form,
The soft breeze stirr'd his hair,
And peace from heaven was gently borne,
In answer to that prayer.
His soul grew calm with faith and love,
His eye with fervour bright --
The strength that cometh from above
Had nerved him for the fight.
He sat amid that little band
Of noble Christian men,
And seized with eager joyful hand
The truth-confessing pen.
"Nay! stop me not!" he quickly cried,
"I would confess my Lord!
Take, take from me these marks of pride
My ermine, hat and sword.
To me the Cross of Christ is more
Than all these toys of kings --
They pass with life -- it rises o'er
The wreck of earthly things.
My Master's Cross! I'll bear it high
While life and breath remain,
Christ, Christ alone! I'll dying cry,
When other hopes are vain!
Then let me humbly place my name
Upon this speaking scroll --
Ye men of God, be mine your shame,
Your conflict, and your goal!"
Thou brave old man! where'er thou art,
'Mid courts at princely board,
How beautiful! How true in heart!
Thou servant of the Lord!
Thou veteran in that glorious fight
For Christ, for heaven, for truth,
Faith gave thine aged arm the might
Of strong, undaunted youth.
First in that band, the noble few,
Thou stood'st with bearing high,
"I must confess my Saviour too!"
Thy watchword and thy cry.
No wish for honour, praise, or fame,
Glow'd in thine aged breast,
Yet never shone more honour'd name
On proud, imperial crest.
And long when his who triumph'd there
Has pass'd from mortal sight,
Thine yet shall live more radiant far,
Engraved with heaven's own light!





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