The Martyr's Poem Poem by Aidan Clevinger

You condemned us to the sword in Rome,
You sent us to burn at the stake.
You said that we would never see home,
That today our spirits would break.
So with trembling hands we faced the cross,
The whip, the scourge, crucifixion.
Those things we once loved we deemed as loss,
Awaiting the emperor's decision.
But you didn't know, chanting for our death,
Of the coming victory proclomation,
Or that to us our Lord would give fresh breath,
The end of earthly frustration.
Though you brought our deaths by fire and by sword,
These were just the way home to be with our Lord.