Classic Poem

‘B EHOLD an Israelite indeed,
‘In whom there is no guile,’—
Whom neither worldly ways mislead,
Nor treach'rous thoughts defile.

SINCERITY, belov'd of Christ,
For him herself has kept,
And neither purchas'd, nor intic't,
With him has smil'd and wept.

Her Jesus in his arms infolds,
And to his church ascribes—
She wears the precious ring that holds
Each jewel of the tribes.

Gold is not very gold, nor myrrh
True myrrh, nor rubies glow,
If first not try'd and prov'd by her
That they indeed are so.

She is a fountain from the truth,
And floods embracing all;
Hypocrisy shall gnash its tooth
Whene'er it hears her call.

Who then amongst mankind can thrive
That has such ghostly worth?
The saint must needs be flay'd alive,
Possessing her on earth.

Come then, or sword, or fire, or ax,
Devour me branch and stem,
I will not fail to pay the tax
Of life for such a gem.