"Your King has cursed the usurer's gold,
He gives it to me for my fee!
Your church is builded, but behold
Your church is fair for me—for me!
Who robs the poor to me is given;
Impenitent and unforgiven,
His church is built for hell, not heaven!"
Then, as we gazed, the face grew clear,
And all men stood as turned to stone;
Each man beheld through dews of fear