Explore "Saints" by Virna Sheard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Saints of Thy great Church, 0 Christ, / How vast their numbers be -- / On holy page and ancient scroll / Their blessed names we see, / And from the painted window panes / They smile eternally.
Rope-girdled monk, and pallid maid, / And men who for Thy cross / Fought with the Saracen of old, / Counting their lives no loss -- / Martyrs who rose through golden flames, / Free of the body's dross.
Yet there be Saints uncanonised, / Unrecognised, unknown -- / Here on the common roads of earth, / Oft times they walk alone; / Saints whom no soul hath ever praised, / Saints whom no Church doth own.
Men who against their souls' grim foes / Wage an unyielding fight; / Men of new creeds, and men of old, / Men of dark hue, and white, / Each pressing hard towards some far gleam / Of Thy celestial light.
Dwellers in places waste and lone, / Toilers upon the seas -- / Mayhap they seldom pray high heaven. / Softly -- on bended knees -- / Yet in the roll-call of Thy Saints, / Dear Christ -- remember these.