A History Of The Rise Of Methodism In America - Media Sabda Org

The lightning-flash that gilds the summer sky
At evening time is harmless; the fiery bolt
Tears the strong oak, and splits the solid rock.
The chieftain's voice amidst the battlestorm
Is not soft music to the listening ear;
Neither was thine, O, Abbott, but it came
Among the alien armies like the roar
Of that dread thunder among the Philistines,
When tremblingly they fled from Mizpah's walls.
"Such was he."
Science and languages he never knew,
Nor did he need their aid. His naked sword,
Which knew no scabbard till the war was past,
To do good service in his Masters cause,
Needed no jeweled handle. Its keen edge,
Descending with the force of giant might,
Through flesh and spirit found its devious way,
And hearts of stone might not resist its stroke.
Ay, how they trembled and confounded fell,
Sire and son, the timid and the brave,
In heaps on heaps, like men in battle slain!
"Such was he."
A living minister of saving truth,
Mighty in word and deed, whose spirit still
Breathes through his truthful story, and inflames
To heavenly zeal who reads the glowing page.
"Such was he."
Nor gown nor surplice wrapped his brawny limbs.
What needed he to trace his high descent
Through mitered miscreants in priestly robes,
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Through Lauds and Bonners to the holy Paul?