Classic Poem

Like two pale stars at distance seen
When silver dews are on the lawn,
And misty shadows lie between
The silent earth and breaking dawn.

So bright, so dimly seen the two
Whose names the Church has loved to blend,
So pure in Heaven's eternal blue,
Of man below so little kenn'd.

She only saith from age to age
That one wrote down a burning word,
That lives along the eternal page,
And one was zealous for the Lord.

And when men call Christ's roll of fame,
His chosen twelve in church or cot,
They speak the zealot Simon's name,
And Judas who betray'd Him not.

But all the rest to human ken
Is dark or dimly understood,
So small is the applause of men,
So great the silence of the good.

To what barbarian lands their feet
Bore Christ's dear cross we cannot tell;
No murmur of tradition sweet
Has whisper'd how they fought and fell.

Enough they saw the Master's face,
For Him to live, for Him to die;
And still their blended light we trace
Along the Church's starlit sky.

O Christ, our Sun, our Saviour dear!
Absorbing, filling all Thy Saints;
Thy light illumines all the year,
When the sweet starlight pales and faints.