Songs

Ross wrote this short triumphant poem on August 21st 1897, the day after he made his crucial discovery.

This day relenting God
Has placed within my hand
A wondrous thing; and God
Be praised. At Hs command

Seeking His secret deeds
With tears and toiling breath
I find thy cunning seeds,
O million-murdering Death.

I know this little thing
A myriad men will save.
O Death, where is thy sting,
Thy victory, O Grave!