R. H. Froude
Yes, mark the words, deem not that Saints alone
Are Heaven's true servants, and His laws fulfil
Who rules o'er just and wicked. He from ill
Culls good, He moulds the Egyptian's heart of stone
To do him honour, and e'en Nero's throne
Claims as His ordinance; before Him still
Pride bows unconscious, and the rebel will
Most does His bidding, following most its own.
Then grieve not at their high and palmy state,
Those proud bad men, whose unrelenting sway
Has shatter'd holiest things, and led astray
CHRIST's little ones: they are but tools of Fate,
Duped rebels, doom'd to serve a POWER they hate,
To earn a traitor's guerdon, yet obey.