To the Bloody Theater of the Anabaptists, or Nonresistant Christians

To my Brother T. J. Van Braght [n1282-1]

A zeal and heavenly desire pervades the 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, I saw from you, like flashes burst, As you the Christian martyrs' deaths and steadfast faith rehearsed Even at the very time when sorely afflicted, you lay, And you seemed to realize that you must shortly die.

Will you not save that care and zeal which you now exhaust, And cease awhile that sacrifice, which all your strength has cost? And with the sick and weak awhile from active service hold, In which, as I have said, you have engaged with zeal untold.

Yet I know well that you, like Christ, must ever onward go, And teach the world the word of God, while traveling here below. To show the world what we should bear, and what the martyrs bore You were, by studying God's blessed word, impelled to work the more.

P. VAN BRAGHT.