Martyrs’ Praise
2009 October 23
He powered them with Comfort
that they could bear
the devil orchestrates.
The jeers of men, the fangs,
the claws in cage,
the human rage;
the demon potentates
The mobs had racked up all their
limbs for the stretch –
the grinding wheel
pulled by tormentors’ zeal.
They burned them and they boiled them
They made Saint Stew
they shut their eyes
forever with godless glue
But Satan could not prevail
by breaking backs
(for body is myth
but faith the stuff of facts).
And in the final inning
the devil lost the match;
for each time a martyr dies
his soul doth Jesus catch!
