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A Lost Legend

A Lost Legend image
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St. Wílfridt once, awnre of love grown cold. And faith Imt lukewarm in bis northern fold, While ev'n the few who failed not to be shriven Songbt losa for peace than fcared to forfeit bcaven, Aiinounccd for an approaching festival Tidings of infinite import to all. And when the close packcd church expectant 8tood, Down from its place he threw the holy rood, Crying: "My b-othreu, know that ArinageddoD Is fonght and lostl The saints of God, thoogh led on By Michael and his angels, were o'erthrown: And Satan occtrpies the heavenly throne. All i reversed: 'tis sinners who will dwell Henceforth ia heaven, while saints must burn in heil. Myself, alas! too zeaious have I striven On the Ixrd'8 side- no hope for me of heaven. Bnt you, my brwthren, I have little doubt May yet flnd entranee, if you turn about. Only be apeedy, for 1 have sure word That Judgtnent day will be no more deferred; And Satan 's hosts are on the road to bind Whomever in the house of God they flnd. Go, sin while there is time! Forsako the church. And leavo mo as your scapegoat in the Inreh!" All Btared astonished; and on many a face, Smug, smooth and sanctimonious, a Brimace Grcw slowly, while the open sinner's laughter liane loudly from the rood loft to the rafter. Then, swift as ants swarra from their threatened heap, Or from tue opened pinfold rush the sheep, Forth streamed the congregation, thick and fast, Kiu-h only fearing to be found the last. The church was empty, and St. Wilfrid stood. Most grimly smiling, by the fallen rood; Whon in a darkenod corner he was ware Of somo one kneeling, and a sofrbing prayer: 0, dear Lord Jesu! I have followed thee to long, aud thou hast loved me. Let me be Where thou art. Jesul Rather will I dweil Than with thy foes in heaven with thee In heil!" Then cried St, Wilfrid: "Btessed be thy name. Woman, that puttegt my weak faith to shamel I thonght bot to convict the careleas herd Oí vivin religión by an empty word. Bat novr of thine example will I m&ke A losson that all sinners' sools shall w&ke. All saints' rekindle; aud that word of thine Shall to the wold in goiden letters shine." He stopped towardjthe woman; the white head Lay on the withered hands: she knelt there. dcad.


Old News
Ann Arbor Argus