"The LORD will strengthen him upon the bed of
languishing: Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness."
~ Psalm 41:3 ~
arrow beds by one another-
White and low!
Through them softly, as in church-aisles,
For the hot lips ice-drops bring,
Cold and clear;
Or white eyelids gently closing,
For the bier.
Strong men, in a moment smitten
Down from strength,
Brave men, now in anguish praying-
Death at length,
Burns the nightlamp where the watchers by the bed,
Write for many a waiting loved-one,
"He is dead!"
One lies there in utter weakness-
But his brow wears calm befitting
And although the lips must quiver,
They can smile,
As he says, "This will be over In a while."
"As the old crusaders, weeping in delight,
Knelt when Zion's holy city
Rose in sight,
So I fling aside my weapon,
from the din
To the quietness of Heaven,
"Standing in the solemn shadow
Of God's hand,
Love of glory fading from me,
Love of land,
I thank God that he has let me
Strike one blow
For this poor and helpless people,
Ere I go."
White and whiter grows the glory
On his brow;
Does he see the towers of Zion
Stands the doctor, weary, hurried,
By his bed-
"Here is room for one more wounded-
He is dead."