I take the stand to make this bold decree:
In you has beauty fully taken form.
Were I created but to witness thee,
The judgement would be made were I unborn.
Yet I would give up all that heaven gave
And take a lesser charge from far below,
To hang among the twelve, if that could save
A peer the jury dared not claim to know.
A single mote of dust may tip the scales,
As every drop disturbs the deepest pool.
But who in lieu of gold with dust regales,
While all who thirst and drink have found renewal?
If you alone are all that this has swayed,
A seraph of an angel has been made.