Tomorrow's Martyrs (Poetry)

​Burning winds and scalding sands were your food 
And shelter in your final days of life. 
For your true confession of Christ, exile 
Is your reward from the Arian king. 
The Sahara, like a giant furnace, 
Swallows your Graces, Felix, Cyprian, 
And the four-thousand nine-hundred sixty-six 
Courageous African Christians 
Who voluntarily followed you.

Sharp hunger, parched throats, burnt faces and feet – 
No apparent reprieve from your agony. 
‘Renounce your faith and live!’ the skeptical 
Onlookers shout, not knowing that Christ’s 
Presence with His co-sufferers transforms 
Earthly pains into a foretaste of Heaven’s joys. 
In no way, then, do you grumble against God 
Or look back with longing to your cities. 
Your great company, instead, sings praises 
More fervently to the Sweetest Trinity, 
Though your voices crack and hearts are failing. 

Many angels led your pure souls upward 
Into the Heavenly City, whose light 
Is God Himself, while the silent desert dunes 
Gratefully received your holy bodies, 
Will be their tomb till Resurrection Day. 

The tortures of tomorrow’s Christians 
Will be much more subtle and refined, 
Yet harder to resist – the Enemy 
Has learned well the weaknesses of man. 
Withal, through union with Christ, Who is God, 
Unchanging, unconquerable – today, 
And yesterday, and forever, Amen – 
Through the gifts bestowed on us by your prayers, 
We, too, will endure faithfully to the end, 
And receive from Christ a crown of glory 
And a throne of honor, which we will offer 
Back to Him in thanksgiving and worship, 
Throughout the glorious, endless ages. ​