R4728-392 Poem: Those Who Remain

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::R4728 : page 392::

“Count me the swords that have come.”
“Lord, thousands on thousands are ready.”
“Lo, these are too many, and with them are some
Whose hearts and whose hands are not steady.
He whose soul does not burn,
Let him take up his tent and return.”

“Count me the swords that remain.”
“Lord, hundreds on hundreds are daring.”
“These yet are too many for me to attain
To the victory I am preparing.
Lead them down to the brink
Of the waters of Marah to drink.”

“Lord, those who remain are but few,
And the hosts of the foe are appalling,
And what can a handful such as we do?”
“When ye hear from beyond my voice calling
Sound the trump! Hold the light!
Great Midian will melt in your sight.”


— December 15, 1910 —