Servants Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCD EFEF AGAG AHAH IJIJ KLKL MNMN DODL KPQP RSRS ALAL

They are but servants say the words of scorningA
As though they meant to say we're finer clayB
Yet all the universe holds solemn warningA
Against this pride in creatures of a dayB
-
In fashion's last new folly flaunting slowlyC
With white plumes tossing on the Sabbath airD
They pass with scornful words a sister lowlyC
Do scornful lips know anything of prayerD
-
Alas poor human nature's inconsistenceE
Up to God's house we go that we be fedF
And there as beggars begging for assistanceE
Say Give us Lord this day our daily breadF
-
Without a price the priceless blessings buyingA
Which are laid up for us with Christ in GodG
To Him we come as little children cryingA
That He may guide us by His staff and rodG
-
We leave His presence on the Sabbath morningA
Feeling forgiven feeling satisfiedH
Then pass our lowlier sisters full of scorningA
Ruffling ourselves as those that dwell in prideH
-
Yet He to whom we come with wishes ferventI
When He came down as bearing our reliefJ
It was His will to come in form a servantI
Being despised being acquaint with griefJ
-
Earth's mighty conquerors it is said have foundedK
Orders of merit after fields were wonL
And victors' brows the laurel wreath surroundedK
To tell of daring deeds most bravely doneL
-
Trifles as fading as the classic laurelM
Became the guerdon of each mighty deedN
Titles and stars rewarded mortal perilM
And men for such as these would gladly bleedN
-
But He our holy sinless suffering SaviourD
When He sat down upon a conqueror's throneO
Ordained the soldiers of the cross that everD
They wear the name in which He victory wonL
-
Servants to do all things He hath commandedK
To bear the service which our Lord has borneP
To suffer for His name with false words brandedQ
To pay with loving service bitter scornP
-
What was beforetime low is now the highestR
And that is glory that the world calls shameS
Those who can say I serve to Him are nighestR
Because the Son hath worn a servant's nameS
-
Lift up your heads heed not the words of scorningA
From those whose earnest life is not begunL
Blessed are they who on the judgment morningA
Hear from the Master Servant 'tis well doneL

Nora Pembroke (margaret Moran Dixon Mcdougall)



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About Servants

Servants is a poem by Nora Pembroke (margaret Moran Dixon Mcdougall). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



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