Within the broken Vatican <br />The murdered Pope is lying dead. <br />The soldiers of Valerian <br />Their evil hands are wet and red. <br /> <br />Unarmed, unmoved, St. Laurence waits, <br />His cassock is his only mail. <br />The troops of Hell have burst the gates, <br />But Christ is Lord, He shall prevail. <br /> <br />They have encompassed him with steel, <br />They spit upon his gentle face, <br />He smiles and bleeds, nor will reveal <br />The Church's hidden treasure-place. <br /> <br />Ah, faithful steward, worthy knight, <br />Well hast thou done. Behold thy fee! <br />Since thou hast fought the goodly fight <br />A martyr's death is fixed for thee. <br /> <br />St. Laurence, pray for us to bear <br />The faith which glorifies thy name. <br />St. Laurence, pray for us to share <br />The wounds of Love's consuming flame.<br /><br />Alfred Joyce Kilmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/st-laurence-2/
