The Cross and Crown

by T. D. Curtis

The gods are many which the world adores;
They may be stocks and stones, or creeds and books,
Or saints or heroes; there are many scores
Of idols, both of good and evil looks,
To which the idol-serving worldling crooks
The favor-seeking hinges of the knee;
And then audaciously he freely brooks
Disfavor of the many gods, that he
May serve at Mammon's shrine and roll in luxury!

The known and unknown gods are set aside
When Mammon's glitt'ring chariot rolls along;
The churches all adore the pomp and pride
Of Mammon's blazing cortege; weak and strong
Join in his train, unconscious of a wrong,
And all the gods are chained unto his car;
The "Unknown God" may get their Sunday song—
On other days he's worshiped from afar!
But, next to Mammon, men adore the god of war.

Or saints, or books, or images, or cross,
No matter what the object worshiped be,
'Tis all the same—idolatrous and gross;
It may be done in all sincerity,
Or only done in base hypocrisy,
As is the fancy of the worshiper;
Both classes bend the superstitious knee,
Hoping their god his favors will confer,
Howe'er the supplicant in life and tho't may err!

There is no efficacy in what's done
By way of worship; all is empty show,
External form; in not a single one
Does it inspire a strong desire to go
The straight and narrow path of duty. No,
Not e'en the most benighted devotee—
The most sincere idolater we know—
Conforms his daily conduct so that he
Shall realize the prayer of his idolatry.

All worship is an inconsistent sham—
An echo from the thrones of earthly kings,
Who have the power to either bless or damn
Their subjects of this world in worldly things;
It will be fostered in the church, which brings
A living fat for wily ministers,
As long as folks will wear their leading-strings;
But when the blood of independence stirs
Men's hearts, they'll cease to bow as idol-worshipers.

So long as thoughtless men deceive their souls
With vague conjectures that a wordy prayer
Their destiny beyond the graveyard moulds,
When breathed aloud into the empty air,
To some unknown mysterious being there,
Their conduct will be inconsistent, mad;
Reason and common sense will have no share
In guiding them to action, and the sad
Results will only to the world's confusion add.

How very low and groveling is this,
And reeking with the very fumes of hell!
As if mankind could win immortal bliss
By idle words and forms, in which can dwell
No kind of virtue, no exalting spell!
Let men but reason and they must behold
That righteous living here alone can tell
In raising human destiny. The bold
In thought and action the most rapidly unfold.

But some day men will learn that law supreme,
Unchanging and unerring, rules us all;
That there is neither low nor high extreme
Where special favors unto men may fall,
Or privilege be granted at the call
Of homage-giving beings who desire
To gain advantage, be it great or small;
That selfishness can never raise men higher.
And only deeds of good can aid those who aspire.

Throw creeds and books and churches to the winds,
Save as they furnish food for human thought;
Shun every subtle manacle that binds
The human reason—'tis with evil fraught;
Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aught
But Truth and Justice and the love of Good;
With these alone can be salvation bought;
It was for these the Nazarene once stood—
In these must every soul find its redemption food.

Let men have faith in principle, and strive
To live in strict accord with equity;
When at the door of truth they always knock,
And deal no more in foolish mystery,
But trim the lamp of reason so they see
The right from wrong, and act the nobler part.
Then will the human race be truly free;
Then the millennium will surely start
With the millennial conditions in the heart.