Sent His own messenger unto him
During his prayers, who thus spake:

"Know, for this oak sprang thy preference,
Not without promptings divine;
Lo! take the knife thou hast slaughtered with,
Fell it, and grace shall be thine.

"Yea, though the task prove laborious,
Great shall the recompense be,
Let but the tree fall, and verily 330
Thou from thy load shalt be free."

Vast was the giant's circumference;
Praying, his task he begins,
Works with the tool of atrociousness,
Offers amends for his sins.

Glory he sang to the Trinity,
Scraped the hard wood with his blade.
Years passed away. Though he tarried not,
Slow was the progress he made.

'Gainst such a mighty antagonist 340
How could he hope to prevail?
Only a Samson could vanquish it,
Not an old man, spent and frail.

Doubt, as he worked, began plaguing him:
Once of a voice came the sound,