The Pages Of Thy Book I Read, And As I Closed Each One, My Heart, Responding, Ever Said, "Servant Of God! Well Done!" Well Done! Thy Words Are Great And Bold; At Times They Seem To Me, Like Luther'S, In The Days Of Old, Half-Battles For The Free. Go On, Until This Land Revokes The Old And Chartered Lie, The Feudal Curse, Whose Whips And Yokes Insult Humanity. A Voice Is Ever At Thy Side Speaking In Tones Of Might, Like The Prophetic Voice, That Cried To John In Patmos, "Write!" Write! And Tell Out This Bloody Tale; Record This Dire Eclipse, This Day Of Wrath, This Endless Wail, This Dread Apocalypse!