Holy hours of stern self-sentence--
These alone can victory bring
When Death's dread sting shall wring us.





FROM "THE LAST JUDGMENT"

(After Goronwy Owen, 1728-1769, next to Dafydd ab Gwilym, the greatest
poet who sang in the old Welsh metres)


Day of Doom, at thy glooming
May Earth be but meet for thee!
Day, whose hour of louring
Not angels in light foresee!
To Christ alone and the Father
'Tis known when thy hosts of might
Swift as giants shall gather,
Yet stealthy as thieves at night.

Then what woe to the froward,
What joy to the just and kind!
When the Seraph band comes streaming
Christ's gleaming banner behind;
Heavenly blue shall its hue be
To a myriad marvelling eyes;
Save where its heart encrimsons