 | Lyra Apostolica (1864) |  |
181
WITHHOLDING OF TITHES
“But ye say, Wherein have we robbed Thee? In tithes and
offerings. Ye are cursed with a curse: for ye have robbed Me,
even this whole nation.”
Heard ye? the unerring Judge is at the door!
The curse of God is on thee, hapless Age,
Binding thy brows with deadly sacrilege;
Heaven's blight hath passed o'er thee! Talk no more:
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Your schemes with God's own whirlwind must engage,
Hand joined in hand with nature war must wage.
Your thoughts of good are toiling for a shore
Against the full Monsoon. O teeming brood
Of hollow counsels impotent to good!
O full-sailed bark! God's Curse thy bearing wind,
And Sacrilege thy freight. Strange pregnant scene,
While boldness mocks at judgment, and behind
Rises an Awful Form! May I be clean!
ζ.
| Lyra Apostolica (1864) | |