'Tis not by exaltation of one's self
The prize of real happiness is won;
'Tis not by hoarding piles of worldly pelf
That we can win the plaudit of "well done;"
'Tis not by self abasement we can shun
The painful consequence of evil ways;
'Tis not by wordy prayer to God or Son
We can prolong the measure of our days;
But living right, with duty done, forever pays.
Then break your idols, oh! ye men of might,
If ye would number with the truly strong;
Strike ye for Justice, Freedom and the Right,
If ye would join the ever-happy throng
That sing in unison redemption's song;
Fling out the banner of the Brotherhood,
Bear it before you as ye march along;
Plant it where every idol erst has stood,
Proclaim to all mankind the Universal Good.
If you would follow Christ, or be like God,
You must, like them, be ever doing good;
You must arise above the brutal clod;
You must stand out, as Jesus Christ once stood,
The sturdy friend of God's great multitude—
That helpless mass of wronged and suffering poor,
Who now are trampled on by Mammon's brood;
You must hold up to scorn the evil-doer,
Put down the foul and raise aloft the good and pure.
In no belief or unbelief, nor prayer,
Can men redemption from their errors find;
No worship of the things of earth of air,
Or heaven or hell, or of the human mind,
Can from a single fetter e'er unbind
One sinning brother. Only deeds alone
Done in the love of what is good and kind,
Can for the smallest human wrong atone;
Then worship not at all, but see that good is done.
Worship is mockery, but only cheats
The worshiper, who fancies he can guide
The forces of the universe, and beats
The air with empty words; and, worse beside,
It dulls man's intellect and leads him wide
Astray from the true path of duty here;
It seeks for ends through setting laws aside,
When all must be fulfilled. Hence it is clear
The worshiper, through prayer seeketh to rule this sphere.
No jot nor tittle will the law abate
Till all shall be fulfilled; nor can man make
One hair or black or white, howe'er he prate;
Nor add unto his stature, though he take
No end of thought and prayer, nor can he shake
The purpose of any higher power;
But if he could, there would be cause to quake—
For all would come to chaos in an hour
And death and darkness quickly all things would devour.
Then be ye not idolatrous, nor bow
In worship unto things unseen or seen,
But bide your lot with clear, unclouded brow,
And child-like trust the powers that e'er have been;
They're watching o'er us all with vision keen
And love unquenchable forevermore;
In turn, they ask our love, our faith serene,
And wait to welcome us, when earth is o'er,
To homes of peace and bliss on Heaven's eternal shore.
