We Meet At The Judgment And I Fear It Not

Though better men may fear that trumpet's warning,          I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,          With golden hope my spirit still adorning.          Our God who made you all so fair and sweet          Is three times gentle, and before his feet          Rejoicing I shall say: - "The girl you gave          Was my first Heaven, an angel bent to save.          Oh, God, her maker, if my ingrate breath          Is worth this rescue from the Second Death,          Perhaps her dear proud eyes grow gentler too          That scorned my graceless years and trophies few.          Gone are those years, and gone ill-deeds that turned          Her sacred beauty from my songs that burned.          We now as comrades through the stars may take          The rich and arduous quests I did forsake.          Grant me a seraph-guide to thread the throng          And quickly find that woman-soul so strong.          I dream that in her deeply-hidden heart          Hurt love lived on, though we were far apart,          A brooding secret mercy like your own          That blooms to-day to vindicate your throne.