Conscience and remorse ran wild, and the Hound of Hell
was a characteristic part of the machinery that made the tragedy of life
so terrific in those old days. But here, by a _tour de force_ in which
is summed up the entire transformation from ancient to modern thought,
the hell-hounds are transformed into the Hound of Heaven. That something
or some one is out after the souls of men, no man who has understood his
inner life can question for a moment. But here the great doctrine is
proclaimed, that the Huntsman of the soul is Love and not Hate, eternal
Good and not Evil. No matter what cries may freeze the soul with horror
in the night, what echoes of the deep-voiced dogs upon the trail of
memory and of conscience, it is God and not the devil that is pursuing.
The poem, by a strange device of rhythm, keeps up the chase in the most
vividly dramatic realism. The metre throughout is irregular, and the
verses swing onward for the most part in long, sweeping lines. But five
times, at intervals in the poem, the sweep is interrupted by a stanza of
shorter lines, varied slightly but yet in essence the same--
"But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat--and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet--
All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.
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