66 
THE PASSION-FLOWER. 
I see the bloody streets of Rome; 
The ‘throng — the burning pyre, 
And christians stand with clasped hands 
Amid the raging fire. 
I hear the women, angel-toned, 
The men with courage high, 
Preach their dear Lord amid their pangs,— 
Forgive their foes—and die. 
I see, far from the world apart, 
In desert-places dwell, 
The early fathers of the church, 
In wood or mountain-cell. 
And there the wondering thousands come, 
By love and pity brought, 
To hear them tell of Jesus Christ, 
And the new truths he taught. 
I see the fearless fathers stand, 
Amid the eager throng, 
Preaching like Paul at Ephesus, 
In burning words and strong. 
