University of Virginia Library


144

V. CHRIST, AND THE SOCIAL REFORMER

Reformer.
The world is perfect as God made
Its heights of sunlight, depths of shade:
God's image in it we restore.

Satan.
Your pupils daub the world with mud:
Or else will send a sea of blood
Circling along from shore to shore.

Reformer.
The world was perfect. Leaf and flower,
Starlight and moonlight, sun and shower,
Fulfil the high God's perfect will.


145

Satan.
And ye will add a starlight new
When, torch in hand, ye issue through
The portals, to consume and kill.

Reformer.
What lessons for the race are there—
In the heavenly depth of starlit air.
What truths the star-land has to teach!

Satan.
The proletariate little cares
About the lessons of the stars:
It has its dirty shirts to bleach.

Reformer.
Astronomy. What nobler lore?
Or from the sea-weeds on the shore
To educe the laws of life and growth.

Satan.
Nay! stuff your pockets full of sweets.
The children gathered from the streets
Like bull's eyes best, I'll take my oath.


146

Reformer.
Such small things teach, if man would learn—
The heather's bell, a tuft of fern:
God's signs are seen in every spot.

Satan.
The people's sign-boards point the way
To where, at foggy close of day,
The fieriest brandy can be got.

Reformer.
Ah! in the future we shall bring
To bear the lessons of the spring,
The teaching of the summer rose.

Satan.
And find that those you would uplift
Would rather you would let them drift
Straight to damnation, in repose.

Reformer.
A genius grand is in the poor.
Behold, we open Music's door
And let the poor man enter in.


147

Satan.
Try them with Beethoven, Mozart.
But don't be angry, do not start,
If Vance and short-skirt ballets win.

Reformer.
The picture-galleries we will ope
On Sundays. There, our leaders hope,
The working-man will take his wife.

Satan.
On Sundays, as a general rule,
The workman thumps her with a stool,
Or jobs her with the carving-knife.

Reformer.
The noblest singing they shall hear.
We'll train their fancy, train their ear,
The grandest thoughts to comprehend.

Satan.
And find that they—yes, one and all—
Would rather see at a Music Hall
The white-eyed Kaffir. Yes, my friend.


148

Reformer.
Christ was the first who understood
The people,—saw the undreamed-of good
Latent in heart and hand and head.

Satan.
And therefore on the cross he died,
And all the fickle people cried,
“Give us Barabbas in his stead!”

Reformer.
The whole world lies before us. Wide
Its wonders stretch on every side.
Vast are the truths life has to teach!

Satan.
The people you would lift so high
Would much prefer—though you may sigh—
To crack their nuts on Brighton beach.

Reformer.
The children shall make holiday
Among the flowers and fragrant hay,
And love the beauty of the flowers.


149

Satan.
They love the gutters and the mud.
I've seen a dead rat's skin and blood
Amuse a blue-eyed child for hours.

Reformer.
They'll leave the stifling town at morn,
And watch the sunshine on the corn
And butterflies with wings snow-white.

Satan.
Children pull off flies' wings, you know.
I've often watched them doing so,
And revelled in the dainty sight.

Reformer.
A long day by the sea's white foam!
They shall sing hymns, returning home,
And ever love the blue-waved sea.

Satan.
Sing hymns! Through Lambeth when I walk
The tiny children's filthy talk
Is really shocking, even to me.


150

Reformer.
If only we can educate
The shop-girls; force the sluggish State
To educate them, one and all.

Satan.
Men train them in such different ways:
Opinions differ in these days:
I think they're sweetest, when they fall.

Reformer.
Once educate—then all is well.
Love can redeem the lost from hell,
And shield the soul sin would destroy.

Satan.
Sin? That is such an ugly name.
A sealskin jacket means the same,
And sounds more delicate, my boy!

Reformer.
Work hard; keep sober; rule your tongue;
Love truly, chastely; marry young.
Domestic joys are joys which last.


151

Satan.
My work-girls dread domestic bliss.
Why sell your freedom, when you kiss?
Marriage is dying out quite fast.

Reformer.
I see the good in every one.
You count the spots upon the sun,
And in the fairest find a sin.

Satan.
My eyes are microscopic. Yes.
I stand by when the girls undress,
And count the blotches on their skin.

Reformer.
Is all life's labour then in vain?
Long effort, struggle, bitter pain.
Must evil still outbalance good?

Satan.
The great Reformer, Jesus, died
With ruffian-robbers at each side,
Nailed on a common cross of wood.


152

Reformer.
That seemed like failure—dismal, vast.
The bright stars must have gazed aghast,
When loving Jesus had to die.

Satan.
It was the death-blow of his dream.
The soldiers saw the blood-drops stream,
And laughed to see them. So did I.

Christ.
On every Church in Christian lands
To-day my cross as symbol stands
Of mine eternal victory.