Let me, God of might,
Amid the number of thine own kingdom 820
With the army of saints my dwelling have
In that bright city, where is my brother
Honored in glory, for that faith with thee
He, Stephen, kept, though with handfuls of stones
He was pelted to death. War's meed he has, 825
Fame without end. There are in books
The wonders he wrought, in writings, made known."
Then gan he glad for the tree of glory,
Constant in zeal, delve in the earth
Beneath the turf, so that at twenty 830
Feet by measure he found far concealed,
Down in the depths hidden in the earth
'Neath cover of darkness,--there found he three
Of roods together within the sad house
Buried in sand, as in days of old 835
The host of the wicked covered with earth,
The folk of the Jews. 'Gainst the child of God
Hatred they raised, although they should not,
If the lore they'd not heard of the father of lies.
Then was his mind greatly rejoiced, 840
His heart was strengthened by that holy tree,
His spirit inspired, when the beacon he saw
Holy 'neath earth. With his hands he clasped
The cross[1] of glory, and it raised 'mid the crowd
From its grave in the earth.
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