It has neither hilt nor guard.
Would'st thou wield this brand of the Lord:
Is thy grasp then firm and hard?
But the closer thy clutch of the blade,
The deadlier blow thou would'st deal,
Deeper wound in thy hand is made -
It is thy blood reddens the steel.
And when thou hast dealt the blow -
When the blade from thy hand has flown -
Instead of the heart of the foe
Thou may'st find it sheathed in thine own!
(found this poem in the "Law of Success" by Napoleon Hill)
The scan below is from Southland Times , Putanga 9708, 23 Hakihea 1887, Page 4
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