The Victor by MRS. S. M. SPICER

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jan 11, 1912

The Victor

By MRS. S. M. SPICER

The Angel's Record—No. 2

The Victor

MRS. S. M. SPICER

In princely halls, a festal scene Shone dazzling o'er a wondering throng; Mid royal purple, golden sheen, Rang loud acclaims of praise and song!

A conqueror, wreathed in laurel crown, Drank long the meed of sweet applause; The crowd, in worship bowing down, Shouted, “Long live the hero brave!” “Immortal honors crown thy name, Which history's page shall proudly bear: The thousand foemen thou hast slain, Their lands and treasures all thine own,”—

So sang the crowd, so flattery paid The servile debt, ambition's due; While far above, the angel stood, From truth's unclouded height to view.

He saw, beneath that laurel crown, Selfish ambition, proudly vain; And on that white, bejeweled hand Of brother's blood the cruel stain. Nor need delay his truthful pen, The victor's name with blood to trace. Though honored, worshiped thus by men. “Thou, conqueror, hast in heaven no place.”

Then quickly sought his angel eye A lovelier sight, a dearer theme; And to the field of strife did fly, Where dead and dying still were seen

He noted: There, unseen by man, The feet of mercy, hands of love, Were swift to bear the soothing balm, And point the dying soul above.

Unsought was wealth; unthought of, fame. Unselfish love, unwearied toil, Relieving sorrow, want, and pain, Illumed the darkly crimsoned soil.

The benefactor meekly heard The dying blessing on his head; While on the angel's book appeared The name, as victor, traced in light.

Takoma Park, D. C.