Classic Poem

PARABLE LXVII.

The Hypocrisy of the Scribes and Pharisees—The straining out a Gnat—The white Sepulchres—The Hen gathering her Chickens, &c.

Woe to the Pharisaic pride,
And woe dissembling Scribes betide!
For ye shut up God's heav'nly grace,
And such as would Christ's reign embrace,
Ye not permit to enter in,
Nor will yourselves the work begin.
Woe to the Pharisaic pride,
And woe dissembling Scribes betide!
For widows houses ye devour,
And make long pray'rs, pretending pow'r,
For which ye, therefore, shall receive
The sentence that has no reprieve
Woe to the Pharisaic pride,
And woe dissembling Scribes betide!
For over sea and land ye stray
To make one proselyte your prey,
And he becomes by twofold more
Hell's child, than you yourselves before
Woe be to you, ye leaders blind,
That say, whoe'er himself shall bind
Ev'n by God's temple, 'twill not hold:
But whoso swears him by the gold,
That gilds the temple, he must rue.
Ye fools and blind! for of the two,
Which has it, gold? or God's own home
That sanctifies the gilded dome?
And by the altar who shall swear,
Does nothing but the off'ring there,
Who shall adjure, his oaths remain.
Ye fools and blind! which of the twain
Is great, what for acceptance lies,
Or what receives and sanctifies?
Who then adjure the altar dares,
By that and all thereon he swears;
And who attests the church, attest
Both that and him that's in it blest;
And whoso swear by heav'n, imply
God's throne and Him that sits on high.
Woe to the Pharisaic pride,
And woe dissembling Scribes betide!
For tithe of anise, mint, ye pay,
And cummin, but ye do not weigh
The greater points God's laws propose,
As judgment, mercy, faith—all those
Ye should have honour'd every one,
Nor your own trifles left undone.
Blind teachers! that the gnat strain out,
And gorge the camel without doubt.
Woe to the Pharisaic pride,
And woe dissembling Scribes betide!
For ye make clean th'exterior part
Of cup and plate with care and art,
Which yet contain, o'er-charg'd within,
Exaction and excess of sin
Blind Pharisee! first make thou clean
What in the cup and plate are seen,
And so thou shalt of course provide
To purify the outward side
Woe to the Pharisaic pride,
And woe dissembling Scribes betide!
For whited tombs your lives be like,
Whose form and gloss th' observer strike:
But inwardly with filth are fraught,
With dead men's bones, and all things naught.
Ev'n so you outwardly appear
To men as righteous and sincere:
Yet your false hearts belye your smile,
Full of hypocrisy and guile
Woe to the Pharisaic pride,
And woe dissembling Scribes betide!
Because the prophets vaults ye paint,
And deck the graves of ev'ry saint:
And living in your fathers time,
Ye cry, ye had not known their crime,
Nor been in prophets blood imbru'd;
Wherefore ye of yourselves conclude,
That you're the seed of murd'rers base:
Fill up the measure of your race.
Ye serpents! vipers! one and all!
How shall ye 'scape a second fall?
Wherefore, behold! I send you down
Seers, prophets, scholars of renown,
And ye shall murder some, and some
Shall nail on crosses, when they come,
Some shall in synagogues be scourg'd:
So that against you may be urg'd
The blood of all men shed on earth,
That boasted any plea of worth,
Ev'n from the cry of Abel's veins
To holy Zachary's remains,
'Twixt fane and altar who expir'd,
All of this race shall be requir'd.
?O Salem! Salem! whose fell rage
Assassins each prophetic sage,
And stones God's servants from on high
Sent for thy peace! How oft would I
Have gather'd all thy race again,
Ev'n as th' officious hen is fain
Beneath her wings her brood to call?
But ye would not attend at all.
Behold! your house is left forlorn:
For of this truth your tribes I warn.
Me shall ye see again no more,
'Till ye shall say, as ye adore,
‘All benediction, and all fame
‘On him that comes in Christ his name!’