Classic Poem

Golgotha's journey is an ancient way
That leads from Rome's outrageous judgment gate
To modern slums and trenches, where we pray
To him whose heart is breaking with our hate.

We build his crosses now of steel and lead,
And pierce his body with the bayonet;
Behind the trenches watch his blood flow red
In flaming anguish that we soon forget.

Lord Caesar's high tribunal, Martian-wise,
Spits in his face—Rome never was more rude!—
And in the name of freedom still denies
To Christian men the right of rectitude.

For greed and self-enthronement are the same,
And Jesus bleeds in every clan and clime;
All down the ages with its lashing shame
He bears the insult—Love his only crime.

Golgotha's journey is an ancient way
—That leads from Rome's outrageous judgment gate
To modern slums and trenches, where we pray
—To him whose heart is breaking with our hate.

We build his crosses now of steel and lead,
—And pierce his body with the bayonet;
Behind the trenches watch his blood flow red
—In flaming anguish that we soon forget.

Lord Caesar's high tribunal, Martian-wise,
—Spits in his face—Rome never was more rude!—
And in the name of freedom still denies
—To Christian men the right of rectitude.

For greed and self-enthronement are the same,
—And Jesus bleeds in every clan and clime;
All down the ages with its lashing shame
—He bears the insult—Love his only crime.