My preaching, praying Christian,
Now boasts, in pride and glee,
"Those begging, sponging rascals,
Didn't get a cent from me!
I don't believe their stories,
About the suffering poor,
The thieves were after money,
And I sent them from my door."
Oh, out upon such a pretense!
May a curse be upon his gold,
And the cries of an hundred people,
Hungry, and naked, and cold,
Ring in his ears forever;
And the words his false lips pray
Fall on deaf ears in heaven,
From now till the Judgment Day.
Oh "hypocrites, and liars!"
Your prayers blaspheme God's name!
And if the angels hear them,
They blush for you in shame,
And, though you deceive your fellows,
With the pious cloak you wear;
The hosts of heaven look deeper,
And they know your true worth there.
[DYING.]
The great high arch of heaven, like tapestry
On ancient walls, was grandly colored--save
The quiet, cloudless west, that was a sea
Of purest crystal--golden wave on wave.
"Oh love," she whispered, "open wide the blind,
And let me see the glory of the West;
There just across the sea, my soul will find--
What here is never found--find peace and rest."
Deeper, and darklier grand, the bright clouds grew,
And red and amber streaks shot through the North.
The very light of heaven was shining through
The crystal West. She reached her thin hand forth
And a strange splendor fell upon her face;
And her dark eyes glowed with unearthly light.
I knew it came from God's celestial plane,
Where there is neither sorrow, death, nor night.
"Oh love!" she cried, "my struggling spirit yearns
To leave this clay and go across the sea,
Look! how to molten gold the whole sky turns;
And see that white hand beckoning to me.
Oh love, my love, this is not death, to go
At this sweet hour across the golden tide;
To drop my every care, and henceforth know
Only the pleasures of that other side."
The angel took the tapestries away,
And rolled them up in heaven, out of sight,
Leaving the common walls of sombre gray
To catch the dews and damp fogs of the night.
The west wind played upon his dulcimer.
I leaned across her couch with bated breath;
"Oh love," I said, as I gazed down on her,
"Surely, thy words were true, this is not death!"
[THANKSGIVING.]
Thank God for men! I hear the shout
From east and west go up, and out.
Thank God for men whose hearts are true;
For men who boldly dare, and do.
For men who are not bought and sold,
Who value honor more than gold,
For men large-hearted, noble-minded,
For men whose visions are not blinded
With selfish aims: men who will fight
With tongue or sword, for what is right;
For men whom threats can never cower,
For men who dare to use their power
To shield the right and punish wrong
E'en though his host are bold and strong;
For men who work with hearts and hands
For what the public good demands.
Bless God the thankful people say,
Such men have not all passed away.