Chapter_114

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When first God stirr’d me, and the Church’s word

Came as a theme of reverent search and fear,

It little cost to own the lustre clear

Of truths she taught, and rite and rule she stored;

For conscience craved, and reason did accord.

Yet one there was that wore a mien austere,

And I did doubt, and, startled, ask’d to hear

Whose mouth had force to edge so sharp a sword.

My mother oped her trust, the holy Book;

And heal’d my pang. She pointed, and I found

Christ on Himself, considerate Master, took

The utterance of that doctrine’s fearful sound.

The Fount of Love His servants sends to tell

Love’s deeds; Himself reveals the sinner’s hell.