N O MORE our New-Year greeting ushers in
The blood-stained field, and war's sulphureous din:
Where eastern vultures lately tore the slain,
The Dove of Peace now gently broods again.

But in our own more favored land, a war
Has raged 'midst brethren, more disgraceful far; —
North against South, and South against the North:
While each excited section has sent forth
Its troops of armed marauders to infest,
And fight for mastery in, the distant West.
Kansas was " bleeding " all the summer through;
And politicians had enough to do,
Whether to heal the wounds and shirk the blame,
Or keep them bleeding till November came: —
For men, like bulls, go blind with rage, 'tis said,
At sight of any little rag of red;
And demagogues by trade are therefore glad
Of any chance to make the people mad.
Thus through the land, on every side, there rung
The bitter railings of the slanderous tongue;
While bludgeon-blows laid, weltering in his gore,
A Senator upon the Senate floor.

And soon the popular pulpit caught the rage!
No longer Gospel schemes its powers engage.
Religion yields her place awhile, till first
Fremont " saves " Kansas from a " doom accurst: "
Or till Buchanan's righteous reign once more
Shall " save the Union, " — often saved before.
This " gospel of the Times, " with all its vaunts,
Sadly burlesques the Gospel it supplants.
Satan no longer is its Prince of Evil,
But " Slavery extension " is its Devil.
Its Hell is simply — " Southern Domination; "
Its Kingdom Come — " the next Administration! "
Well may it drop, on every light pretence,
The things of God, for those of time and sense.
Made but by man, that ministry of earth
Bows and obeys the power that gave it birth.
For when men make a ministry, 'tis not
To teach , but rather represent the taught .
The People give the text, then give the cue,
And, when they please, they give the sermon too!
Not that, in truth, their preachers thus depart
From any deep convictions of the heart:
'Tis that their hearts no deep convictions know,
But while the People love to have it so.
No man makes his religion for himself ,
But when he lays religion on the shelf.
Rebel against the Church of God, he can;
But thus enslaves him to the Church of man.
As in the former, every truth, when known,
At once is welcomed to the royal throne:
So, in the latter, each prevailing whim
The votary owns, as so much " truth " for him.
The changeful stars he shuns: but on the vane
Fixes his eye, and shifts and shifts again;
Profoundly certain that, each time he turns,
Some deeper " faith " his honest soul discerns!
Should the tee-total mania be the cry,
" Tee-total! " all the sounding-boards reply.
Should Abolition make the People groan
O'er evils they have never seen nor known:
The Pulpits all with one consent obey,
And ring with " Slavery! " every " Sabbath day. "
And thus, of course, when politics run high,
Their preachers, finding the old Gospel dry,
From platforms into pulpits nimbly jump,
Stuffing their sermons full with stealings from the stump.

And Rome, who has the gift of God indeed,
Whose martyrs in old time were wont to bleed
For that pure Faith which her base sons o'erlay —
Parade in words, but in their works betray —
Rome is the worst in this. What others do
In weakness, failing from the good and true,
She does of firm, set purpose. They are made
By frailty, what she makes herself by trade.
Both swords she claims. All temporal power she grasps
In theory; and whene'er she can, she clasps
In such intense embrace, that, ere her heart
Resigns its prize, life will itself depart!
In this our land she rouses deadly hate
By boldly thus combining " Church and State. "
Her " Organs " all take part in politics,
Mingling religion with vile party tricks.
In solid phalanx all their strength they strain;
In solid phalanx fight the whole campaign:
Then, for these spiritual cares and toils,
Like other patriots, claim their share of spoils.
While their Archbishop, honest man and meek,
Mum as a mouse through all the fight, will speak
And gently tell them, — when the election's done —
" He thinks they'd best let politics alone! "
The same unworldly spirit runs through all
Their deeds and dealings, both with great and small.
Vast funds they draw from Europe's distant shore;
From silly Protestants they wheedle more;
From their own poor, enormous sums they wring,
Yet make them pay, besides, for everything:
And all they get in their anointed hands,
They vest in city lots and western lands.
The sacraments are never " sold, " they say,
But only " given " — where they are sure of pay:
And, without cash, masses are never said
For benefit of either quick or dead.
Which then is worst? Those who the Church desert?
Or those who thus her highest powers pervert?
Better the soldiers who, in blindness, cast
Their lots upon Christ's vesture: than at last
Be found a true Apostle, who yet sold
His Lord, like Judas, through his greed for gold!

Not so the Church of God: for she can show
Her title from above, not from below.
Ordained by Christ in Apostolic hands;
By them extended wide throughout all lands;
In line unbroken handing down her powers,
Perpetual, through all ages down to ours:
No petty questions vex her heart and mind,
Great with Salvation's gift for all mankind.
With Faith proclaimed by all the saints of yore,
Held everywhere, by all, and evermore; —
Channel of Grace breathed forth by Jesus' Breath;
Entrusted with the Keys of Life and Death:
No need for her to bolster up herself
With worldly politics, or power, or pelf.
God's Word she speaks: and those who hear, receive
By God's command — not by the People's leave.

True, Rome will claim the self-same gift as hers:
And sells it, damaged , to her worshippers.
True, all the sects urge claims as loud and high:
Then straight to " topics of the day " they fly.
In vain with boasts both veil their conscious shames;
Their solid deeds belie their empty claims.
The " Kingdoms of this world " they, fierce, desire,
Loudly renounce, yet clutch: and, for such hire,
They, like the dog to his own vomit turned,
Worship that Devil whom their Saviour spurned;
Thus proving clearly that their kingdom is
The very perfect opposite of His!

The Church alone yet keeps her garments free
From all entangling with the powers that be.
Her creed sublime admits no postscript-power,
From monkish dreams, or passions of the hour.
No party Shibboleths, or angry isms ,
Spot her bright robes with burs of sects and schisms.
Oft by pretended friends is she enticed, —
As old Herodians catechized the Christ: —
But wise from Him, the difference she has showed
'Twixt things of Caesar and the things of God.
She knows them freemen, whom the Truth makes free,
While all are slaves beside: and therefore she,
Calm in her dignity of royal birth,
Lets potsherds strive with potsherds of the earth.
The Spouse of Christ, she wears a crown, to-day,
That man can neither give nor take away.
Sad, yet unmoved, she sees her foes prefer
This poor world's noisy strifes: but unto her
To point or North or South was never given; —
Enough, 'tis hers alone to point from earth to Heaven!