To the Bloody Theater of the Anabaptists, or Nonresistant Christians

To my Brother T. J. Van Braght

A zeal and heavenly desire pervades th' inspired

strings

Of David's harp, whose tuneful chords a mournful

feeling brings;

When fear of death was strong within, those

strains from Zion would roll,

In psalms to demonstrate his grief and gloominess

of soul.

Such zeal, O brother, did I see from thee, like

flashes burst,

As thou the Christian martyrs' deaths and stead;

fast faith rehearsed

E'en at the very time when sore afflicted, thou

didst lie,

And thou didst seem to realize that thou must

shortly die.

Wilt thou not save that care and zeal which thou

dost now exhaust,

And cease awhile that sacrifice, which all thy

strength has cost?

And with the sick and weak awhile from active

service hold,

In which, as I have said, thou hast engaged with

zeal untold.

Yet, well I know that thou, like Christ, must ever

onward go,

And teach the world the word of God, while trav;

eling here below.

To show the world what we should bear, and what

the martyrs bore

Thou wast, by studying God's blest word, impelled

to work the more.

P. VAN BRAGHT.