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Airs of Palestine, and other poems | ||
186
[IV. How long, O God, how long]
How long, O God, how long
Must thy pure eyes behold
This fair world blasted by the wrong,
Man does to man for gold?
How long shall Reason be cast down,
And a fierce demon wear her crown?
Must thy pure eyes behold
This fair world blasted by the wrong,
Man does to man for gold?
How long shall Reason be cast down,
And a fierce demon wear her crown?
The prisoner's cell, that all
Life's blessed light bedims,
The lash that cuts, the links that gall,
The poor slaves' festering limbs,—
What is this thraldom, to the chain
That binds and burns the drunkard's brain?
Life's blessed light bedims,
The lash that cuts, the links that gall,
The poor slaves' festering limbs,—
What is this thraldom, to the chain
That binds and burns the drunkard's brain?
If, then, thy frown is felt,
O God, by those who bind
The body,—what must be the guilt
Of such as chain the mind,
Drag to the pit, and plunge it in!
O have not these “the greater sin”?
O God, by those who bind
The body,—what must be the guilt
Of such as chain the mind,
Drag to the pit, and plunge it in!
O have not these “the greater sin”?
187
The mother of our race,
Whose sin brought death and woe,
Yet, in her weakness, found thy grace;—
The Tempter's curse we know.
Doth he who drinks, wrong most the soul?
Or he who tempts him to the bowl?
Whose sin brought death and woe,
Yet, in her weakness, found thy grace;—
The Tempter's curse we know.
Doth he who drinks, wrong most the soul?
Or he who tempts him to the bowl?
Help us, O God, to weigh
Our deeds as in thy scales;
Nor let gold dust the balance sway;—
For good o'er gold prevails
At that dread bar where all must look
Upon the record in THY Book.
Our deeds as in thy scales;
Nor let gold dust the balance sway;—
For good o'er gold prevails
At that dread bar where all must look
Upon the record in THY Book.
Airs of Palestine, and other poems | ||