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With spirit strong I buckled to the fight,
What sudden chill rushes through every vein?
Those fatal arms oppress me-all in vain
My fainting limbs seek their accustomed might.

Forged were those arms for men of other mould,
Our hands they fetter, cramp our spirits free,
I throw them on the ground and suddenly
Comes back my strength-returns my spirit bold.

1 stand alone, unarmed,-yet not alone,
Who heeds no law but what within he finds,
Trusts his own vision, not to other minds,
lie fights with thee- Father, aid thou thy son.

J.