I hated those who fought against the right.
But then I read again about that night
Within the Garden of Gethsemane:
Enfolded still by Love, the Master stood;
The noise and the confusion found him calm.
He must have known the hate and hurt a lie,
That there is nothing anywhere but good.
He cured the injured Malchus. We can see
The wound required no time, no soothing balm:
The saving truth of God is always nigh.
Though error shrieks, and evil lifts its voice,
We dwell in quiet, perfect and secure.
Despite the seeming storm, we can rejoice.
We live in loving-kindness, safe and sure.
